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290 SKETCHES.
ing : “ No, now we must proceed to the latter part!” or,
“No, now we must think of the eider-downs !” which gen-
erally was a signal for the whole house to go to bed, but
frequently not to any rest for me; for restless feelings and
thoughts.made the “ eider-downs” to me any thing but the
peaceful downs of forgetfulness and pleasant dreams.
This evening, especially, after recovering from my fever-
ishness, the pulses of life seemed to rise with renewed vigor,
and to beat with double strokes. I was walking about
through all the deserted rooms longing for something
pleasant, something animating. Hitherto I had had very
little pleasure in the world, and yet I felt that I could enjoy
much. I was alone, had nothing to do, nothing to work
for, nothing I fancied to live for. The old interminable
“frill” at which I was working while I was sitting at the
window in the day, I did not care even to look at. In fact,
I detested embroidery. To play the piano was more pleas-
ant, but then — somebody ought to listen to me and find
pleasure in my music; but I was now alone and my old
grandmother was deaf and was sitting at her cards in the
boudoir, muttering in a half-suppressed voice over the
Queen of hearts and the King of spades, and about deaths
and marriages and presents, and all kinds of adventures ;
but I was used to this, and used to her prophecies never
being fulfilled ; for never did any adventures or events, any
thing unusual or wonderful, happen in our family, which I
thought was exceedingly tiresome, and I therefore sketched
one day in my album a figure yawning awfully, and with
outstretched arms sighing forth —
The worst of all destinies
Is to have no destiny at all.
I feared that I was doomed to this fate and to live in an
eternal calm. Alas! like a bird in its cage, flapping its
wings against the imprisoning bars and beating itself to
death rather than live in it, such was at this time my poor
heart. This evening, at all events, it beat so; it was be-
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