I was always sorry that my name was Esther; not that I found fault
with the name itself, but it was too grave, too full of meaning for
such an insignificant person. Some one who was learned in such
matters - I think it was Allan - told me once that it meant a star,
or good fortune. It may be so, but the real meaning lay for me in
the marginal note of my Bible: Esther, fair of form and good in
countenance, that Hadassah, who was brought to the palace of
Shushan, the beautiful Jewish queen who loved and succored her
suffering people; truly a bright particular star among them. Girls,
even the best of them, have their whims and fancies, and I never
looked at myself in the glass on high days and holidays, when a
festive garb was desirable, without a scornful protest, dumbly
uttered, against so shining a name.
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