Saturday Aug 8th 1857
Bright sunny yet cool morning. How busy we all are. Fingers
keep time with the happiness of our hearts this afternoon. Harve walked some
with me from the store. We spent a most delightful hour of ‘sly’
flirtation all to be forgotten in a day. Mayhap their memories may linger a
w---, All this is not what my soul panteth for. It cannot satisfy the longing
of my heart to be loved. Flirtations are an empty farce, a romance which for a
moment delights, then leaves an empty, unfilled aching void. Sweetmeats
which for a moment in the month are most pleasing but afterwards bring regrets.
[I realise it more than ever now. Jan 1st 1862]
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