for me out of the window with the heather and heliotrope, though
I kept them and have them still. And then came that scene down
below, at old Simon's cottage, and I thought I should never wish
to see you again. And then I came out in London, and went abroad.
I scarcely heard of you again for a year, for Katie hardly ever
mentioned you in her letters, and though I sometimes wished that
she would, and thought I should just like to know what you were
doing, I was too proud to ask. Meantime I went out and enjoyed
myself, and had a great many pretty things said to me--much
prettier things than you ever said--and made the acquaintance of
pleasant young men, friends of papa and mamma; many of them with
good establishments, too. But I shall not tell you anything more
about them, or you will be going off about the luxuries I have
been used to. Then I began to hear of you again. Katie came to
stay with us, and I met some of your Oxford friends. Poor dear
Katie! She was full of you and your wild sayings and doings,
half-frightened and half-pleased, but all the time the best and
truest friend you ever had. Some of the rest were not friends at
all; and I have heard many a sneer and unkind word, and stories
of your monstrous speeches and habits. Some said you were mad;
others that you liked to be eccentric; that you couldn't bear to
live with your equals; that you sought the society of your
inferiors to be flattered. I listened, and thought it all over,
and, being willful and eccentric myself, you know, liked more and
more to hear about you, and hoped I should see you again some
day. I was curious to judge for myself whether you were much
changed for the better or the worse.

"And at last came the day when I saw you again, carrying the poor
lame child; and, after that, you know what happened. So here we
are, dear, and you are my husband. And you will please never to
look serious again, from any foolish thought that I have been
taken in; that I did not know what I was about when I took you,
'for better or for worse, for richer or for poorer, in sickness
and in health, till death us do part.' Now, what have you to say
for yourself?"

"Nothing, but a great deal for you. I see more and more, my
darling, what a brave, generous, pitying angel I have tied to
myself. But seeing that makes me despise myself more."

"What! you are going to dare to disobey me already?"

"I can't help it dearest. All you say shows me more and more that