tombstone!
But it would be. Tremont would never let the truth
be known, if he had to rifle my dead body for my
marriage certificate. What shall I do, then? Tell
anybody who I am? It seems just as if I couldn't.
Either the whole world must know it, or just
himself and me alone. Oh, I wish I had never been
born!"

"JUNE 17, 1876.--Why wasn't I made handsome and
fine and nice? Think where I would be if I was!
I'd be in that big house of his, curtesying to all
the grand folks as go there. I went to see it last
night. It was dark as pitch in the streets, and I
went into the gate and all around the house. I
walked upon the piazza too, and rubbed my hand
along the window-ledges and up and down the doors.
It's mighty nice, all of it, and there sha'n't lie
a square inch on that whole ground that my foot
sha'n't go over. I wish I could get inside the
house once."

"JULY 1, 1876.--I have done it. I went to see Mr.
Orcutt's sister. I had a right. Isn't he away, and
isn't he my boarder, and didn't I want to know
when he was coming home? She's a soft,
good-natured piece, and let me peek into the
library without saying a word. What a room it is!
I just felt like I'd been struck when I saw it and
spied his chair setting there and all those books
heaped around and the fine things on the
mantel-shelf and the pictures on the walls. What
would I do in such a place as that? I could keep
it clean, but so could any gal he might hire. Oh,
me! Oh, me! I wish he'd given me a chance. Perhaps
if he had loved me I might have learned to be
quiet and nice like that silly sister of his."

"JANUARY 12, 1877.--Some women would take a heap
of delight in having folks know they were the wife
of a great man, but I find lots of pleasure in
being so without folks knowing it. If I lived in
his big house and was called Mrs. Orcutt, why, he
would have nothing to be afraid of and might do as
he pleased; but now he has to do what _I_ please.
Sometimes, when I sit down of an evening in my
little sitting-room to sew, I think how this