_Extracts from Miss Frances Thornton's Diary._
_Elmwood_, June 15th, -.
I have been looking over an old journal, finished and laid away long ago, and accidentally I stumbled upon a date eleven years back. It was Guy's wedding day then; it is his anniversary now, and as on that June day years ago I worked among my flowers, so have I been with them this morning, and as then people from the Towers came into our beautiful grounds, so they came to-day and praised our lovely place and said there was no spot like it in all the country round. But Julia was not with them. She will never come to us again. Julia is dead, and her grave is in Saratoga, for Guy dare not have her moved, but he has erected a costly monument to her memory, and the mound above her is like some bright flower bed all the summer long, for he hires a man to tend it, and goes twice each season to see that it is kept as he wishes to have it. Julia is dead and Daisy is here again at Elmwood, which she purchased with her own money, and fitted up with every possible convenience and luxury.
Guy is ten years younger than he used to be, and we are all so happy with this little fairy, who has expanded into a n.o.ble woman, and whom I love as I never loved a living being before, Guy excepted, of course. I never dreamed when I turned her out into the rain that I should love her as I do, or that she was capable of being what she is. I would not have her changed in any one particular, and neither, I am sure, would Guy, while the children fairly worship her, and must sometimes be troublesome with their love and their caresses.
It is just a year since she came back to us. We were in the small house then, but Daisy's very presence seemed to brighten and beautify it, until I was almost sorry to leave it last April for this grand place with all its splendor.
There was no wedding at all; that is, there were no invited guests, but never had bride greater honor at her bridal than our Daisy had, for the church where the ceremony was performed, at a very early hour in the morning, was literally crowded with the halt, the lame, the maimed and the blind; the slum of New York; gathered from every back street, and by-lane, and gutter; Daisy's "people," as she calls them, who came to see her married, and who, strangest of all, brought with them a present for the bride; a beautiful family Bible, golden clasped and bound, and costing fifty dollars. Sandy McGraw presented it, and he had written upon the fly leaf, "To the dearest friend we ever had, we give this book, as a slight token of how much we love her." Then followed, upon a sheet of paper, the names of the donors and how much each gave. Oh, how Daisy cried when she saw the _ten cents_, and the _five cents_, and the _three cents_, and the _one cent_, and knew it had all been earned and saved at some personal sacrifice for her. I do believe she would have kissed every one of them if Guy had permitted it. She did kiss the children and shook every hard, soiled hand there, and then Guy took her away and brought her to our home, where she has been the sweetest, merriest, happiest, little creature that ever a man called wife, or a woman sister. She does leave her things round a little, to be sure, and she is not always ready for breakfast. I guess she never will wholly overcome those habits, but I can put up with them now better than I could once. Love makes a vast difference in our estimate of others, and she could scarcely ruffle me now, even if she kept breakfast waiting every morning and left her clothes lying three garments deep upon the floor. As for Guy,-but his happiness is something I cannot describe.
Nothing can disturb his peace, which is as firm as the everlasting hills. He does not caress her as much as he did once, but his thoughtful care of her is wonderful, and she is never long from his sight without his going to seek her.
May G.o.d bless them and keep them always as they are now, at peace with Him and all in all to each other.
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