The Legacy of Cain HTML version

30. Eunice's Diary
Through the day, and through the night, I feel a misery that never leaves me--I mean the
misery of fear.
I am trying to find out some harmless means of employing myself, which will keep evil
remembrances from me. If I don't succeed, my fear tells me what will happen. I shall be
in danger of going mad.
I dare not confide in any living creature. I don't know what other persons might think of
me, or how soon I might find myself perhaps in an asylum. In this helpless condition,
doubt and fright seem to be driving me back to my Journal. I wonder whether I shall find
harmless employment here.
I have heard of old people losing their memories. What would I not give to be old! I
remember! oh, how I remember! One day after another I see Philip, I see Helena, as I first
saw them when I was among the trees in the park. My sweetheart's arms, that once held
me, hold my sister now. She kisses him, kisses him, kisses him.
Is there no way of making myself see something else? I want to get back to
remembrances that don't burn in my head and tear at my heart. How is it to be done?
I have tried books--no! I have tried going out to look at the shops--no! I have tried saying
my prayers--no! And now I am making my last effort; trying my pen. My black letters
fall from it, and take their places on the white paper. Will my black letters help me?
Where can I find something consoling to write down? Where? Where?
Selina--poor Selina, so fond of me, so sorry for me. When I was happy, she was happy,
too. It was always amusing to hear her talk. Oh, my memory, be good to me! Save me
from Philip and Helena. I want to remember the pleasant days when my kind little friend
and I used to gossip in the garden.
No: the days in the garden won't come back. What else can I think of?
. . . . . . .
The recollections that I try to encourage keep away from me. The other recollections that
I dread, come crowding back. Still Philip! Still Helena!
But Selina mixes herself up with them. Let me try again if I can think of Selina.
How delightfully good to me and patient with me she was, on our dismal way home from
the park! And how affectionately she excused herself for not having warned me of it,
when she first suspected that my own sister and my worst enemy were one and the same!