What shall I
do?
SATURDAY, 11 P.M. Dear Dairy, I have the meazles. I am all
broken out, and look horible. But what is a sickness of the Body
compared to the agony of my Mind? Oh, dear Dairy, to think of
what has happened since last I saw your stainless Pages!
What is a sickness to a broken heart? And to a heart broken
while trying to help another who did not deserve to be helped.
But if he decieved me, he has paid for it, and did until he was
rescued at ten o'clock tonight.
I have been given a sleeping medacine, and until it takes
affect I shall write out the tradgedy of this day, omiting
nothing. The trained nurse is asleep on a cot, and her cap is
hanging on the foot of the bed.
I have tried it on, dear Dairy, and it is very becoming. If
they insist on Switzerland I think I shall run away and be a
trained nurse. It is easy work, although sleeping on a cot is
not always comfortible. But at least a trained nurse leads her
own Life and is not bully-ed by her Familey. And more, she does
good constantly.
I feel tonight that I should like to do good, and help the
sick, and perhaps go to the Front.
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