I feared to worry my mother, who, during all these days, was very busy and full of care. Aunt Hildy would hardly understand me, and as I was waiting for something to move as it were, to make room for me to step, I must still wait, and thought what a pity it was I had not waited in the beginning, and then when I did move make all things plain. But then it lay before me, around and within me, this strange compound of good thought and impulsive will, and I must reach and fall until, ah! I could not tell when I should graduate in this school.
I had now power to restrain myself in many ways, and that had been given in the days before described, when I passed from girlhood to womanhood, but to sit satisfied and wait, I could not yet do. It seemed as if the wings of my thought must grow, and wanted to help me fly, and I was like a bird longing to get into the freedom that waited, and like the bird too, did not realize that my attempts would be in vain, and I could never get out of the cage until a hand opened its door. Therefore, full often I battled unwisely, but I certainly came to know those times, and never made a mistake that I did not realize just a moment too late. How foolish it was!
I prayed for strength, and after the baptism of Mr. Ballou's preaching, I thought, "This will help to make me stronger; now I shall make fewer mistakes."
This was a comfort and a light before me, but my heart sank a little, thinking I might have penance to do for those already committed,--coming events cast their shadows before.
So full of this thought my heart grew, that I asked Aunt Hildy one day if she ever felt trouble before it came, and if that feeling had ever helped her to avoid any part of what was to come.
"Well," said she,--she was coring and paring apples for pies,--taking up the towel and wiping one apple three or four times over in an absent way, "Well, Emily, I've had a host of troubles in my day. They began early, perhaps they'll end late, but there is one thing, the things we expect are agoin' to kill us, most allus turn out like the shadder of a gate post. You know the shadder sometimes will be clean across the road, but when you find the post itself 'taint more'n five feet high. Then again the things we don't expect 'll come some morning like a great harricane, and kill the marigolds of the heart in just a minit."