In all my life I had never felt so
castaway and desolate. When my father and mother first went
from me, I was at least among the places where they had been;
June was with me still, and I knew not Miss Pinshon. The
journey had had its excitements and its interest. Now I was
alone; for June had decided, with tears and woeful looks, that
she would not come to Magnolia; and Preston would be soon on
his way back to college. I knew of only one comfort in the
world; that wonderful, "Lo, I am with you." Does anybody know
what that means, who has not made it the single plank bridge
over an abyss?
No one found out that anything was the matter with me, except
Preston. His caresses were dangerous to my composure. I kept
him off; and he ate his dinner with a thundercloud face which
foretold war with all governesses. For me, it was hard work
enough to maintain my quiet; everything made it hard. Each new
room, every arrangement of furniture, every table appointment,
though certainly not what I had seen before, yet seemed so
like home that I was constantly missing what would have made
it home indeed.
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