Not only interesting
herself in us but in others. Weekly visits were made by her to the poor
in our parish, and blessings fell on her head in prayers rising from the
lips of her grateful friends. The semi-monthly sewing circle she caused
to be appointed at our house (her side), and with her own hands made
all the edibles necessary on every occasion. She shrank from making
calls upon those who were not in need of her services, and never went
willingly to any public gathering. I never knew why, but she was
morbidly sensitive on this point. Once she was over-persuaded, and went
to an old-fashioned quilting party with mother, and she came home in a
fainting condition, and we worked over her until after midnight.
"I am so cold here," she said, placing her hand on her heart--"I will
not go out any more, Mrs. Minot; it hurts me."
We never afterward urged her, nor explained her suffering to the friends
who inquired. She exacted a promise to that effect.
What a strange being our lovely Clara was! She grew to our hearts as ivy
to the oak, and the tendrils of her nature entwined us, creeping a
little nearer daily, until the doors of our hearts were covered with
their growing beauty. I should be writing all about her, and not bring
myself into my story at all, but the promise I made you must be
fulfilled. At some other time I may write out for you the life and work
of this beautiful friend. My own experience seems to me only a
background against which her picture ought to rest.
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