September
4, 1891
Father recently presented
me with this journal. Very well, it is only recently if you consider the word
loosely. It has been almost two years since he has gifted this to me, yet you
are the first page I am to fill. This is because I have a secret I must keep
from Father. When Mother is better I shall inform her, but until then, you are
the only one to know.
I fear if I told Father he would quietly accept
it, then lash out in some way. He wants me to marry Isabelle, his Spanish
business partner’s daughter. I find her obnoxious. She rambles away in Spanish
and refuses any attempts made at teaching her English. This despite my efforts
to gain some mastery of Spanish.
Father must not know I have found another to whom
my heart calls. It sounds crazy, but I have, and I barely know her. Father
would never approve, especially as she is a farmer’s daughter. But she is as
beautiful as the moon and stars at night, her heart is as glorious as the good
Lord’s, and her smile makes the sun envious. She is everything beauty should
be. Her siblings are troublesome, but she hides her exasperation from them,
showing them only kind words and empty threats. They have no idea what they
have. She is wonderful.
I met her today at the market. I saw her distress
when the baker would not lower his prices for her and bought her bread. She was
reluctant to take it, but then what is a woman to think when a strange man
purchases her food without mentioning debt? I walked with her, felt her
uneasiness. Especially when I assumed John and Marie were her children. Can you
fault me? A beauty such as herself is normally married young.
My heart raced all the while she was near me. I
could not help but long for it to do so forevermore. She does not know but I
intend to see her everyday possible. She
lives on the Smith farm with her mother and father, yet she appears as delicate
as any city girl. I would love to make her mine. I intend to woo her.
Love is called Caroline
Smith.
No comments:
Post a Comment