ot
withhold one thought from your happiness, for love has transformed me,
adapted life itself to a new purpose. I have been "called," and I have no
will to resist, because my heart tells me there is goodness in the
purpose, a little necklace of womanly virtues for me. When I think of
pain, and sorrow, my eyes are holden, I can see only the fair form of love
sanctified, and I can hear only your voice calling me to fulfil a destiny
which you yourself do not understand. And as all these things approach,
beloved, father's God is more to me than your fine illusion. I wish for
guardian angels, I feel the need of a Virgin Mary and of all the lady
mothers in heaven to bless me.

But I have been telling you only of my inner life. Outwardly I shall ever
be capable of the most heathen manifestations. For instance, loving as I
do, how do you account for this personal animosity I feel toward you,
almost a madness of fear at the thought of your approaching visit? There
is something that has never been finished in this affair of our hearts.
Perhaps it is that really you have never kissed me. Well, I find it as
easy to write of kisses as to review a sentimental romance, but actually
there is some instinct in me stronger than mind against the fact, do you
understand? Philip, you have no idea of the depths of feminine treachery!
Did I ever intimate a willingness to do such a thing? I do not say that I
_wish_ to kiss another, but I affirm that it would be easier for me to
kiss my father's presiding elder--and heaven knows he is a didactic
monster of head and whiskers! It is not that I do not love you, but that I
do!

Do you know what will happen when you come to Morningtown? I will meet you
at the station, not as Jessica, but as the demure little home-made
daughter of the Methodist minister here; we will greet each other with
blighting formality, for there will be the station-master's wife to
observe us; we will walk home along the main street, and we will speak of
the most trivial or useful subjects, of the weather in New York, and of
Jack more particularly. Out of sheer bravado I will scan your face now and
then, but my eyes will not rest there long enough to fall before yours
discomfited. When we reach the house father will greet you from his Sinai
elevation, with pretty much the same holy-man courtesy Moses would have
showed if a heathen Canaanite had appeared to him. And while you two are
exchanging platitudes, I will escape into th