Endymion smiled richly in his dream of
Diana. Lake Como was wrapped in golden mist. The divine form in the
Transfiguration floated in light. I thought it would be a pity if Mr.
Hawthorne did not come that moment. As I thought this, I heard the
railroad-coach--and he was here. He looked, to be sure, as he wrote in
one of his letters, "twice the man he was." Dear little Una went to
the village with the mail-bag, just before it was time to expect her
father, and I told her I hoped she would drive home with him. She met
him, caught a glance, and he was gone. It surprised me that her sense
of duty prevented her from turning back at once. I asked her why she
did not, as the letters were not of so much importance, since papa had
come. "Oh," said she, "I did not know but it would be wrong to go back
only because I wanted to." At last she came. She entered the Study in
a very quiet way (apparently), received his loving greeting, and then,
taking off her hat, sat down at my feet to look at him, and hear him.
When she went to bed, she said, "Oh, mamma, my head has tingled so,
ever since I saw papa, that I could hardly bear the pain! Do not tell
him, for it might trouble him." Was it not sweet and heroic in her to
keep so quiet for two hours? This is a good specimen of Una's powers
of self-sacrifice. It has sometimes made me wish to weep over her
delicious tears.
Sunday, October 24, 1852.
MY DEAREST MOTHER,--To-day we all went into the woods above and behind
our house, and sat down and wove wreaths of red and russet leaves, and
dreamed and mused with a far-off sound of booming waves and plash of
sea on smooth beach in the pine-trees about us.
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