made me suffer
terribly in the first days.

[Footnote A: The first part of this chapter is edited by R.W.E.; the
remainder by W.H.C.]

[Footnote B: Giovanni Angelo Ossoli.]

THE PRIVATE MARRIAGE.

The high-minded friend, spoken of with such grateful affection by
Margaret, in her letter to her mother, thus gracefully narrates the
romance of her marriage; and the narrative is a noble proof of the
heroic disinterestedness with which, amidst her own engrossing trials,
Margaret devoted herself to others. Mrs. Story writes as follows:--

"During the month of November, 1847, we arrived in Rome,
purposing to spend the winter there. At that time, Margaret
was living in the house of the Marchesa ----, in the Corso,
_Ultimo Piano_. Her rooms were pleasant and cheerful, with
a certain air of elegance and refinement, but they had not
a sunny exposure, that all-essential requisite for health,
during the damp Roman winter. Margaret suffered from ill
health this winter, and she afterwards attributed it mainly
to the fact, that she had not the sun. As soon as she heard of
our arrival, she stretched forth a friendly, cordial hand, and
greeted us most warmly. She gave us great assistance in our
search for convenient lodgings, and we were soon happily
established near her. Our intercourse was henceforth most
frequent and intimate, and knew no cloud nor coldness. Daily
we were much with her, and daily we felt more sensible of the
worth and value of our friend. To me she seemed so unlike what
I had thought her to be in America, that I continually said,
'How have I misjudged you,--you are not at all such a person
as I took you to be.' To this she replied, 'I am not the
same person, but in many respects another;--my life has new
channels now, and how thankful I am that I have been able to
come out into larger interests,--but, partly, you did not know
me at home in the true light.' It was true, that I had not
known her much personally, when in Boston; but through her
friends, who were mine also, I had learned to think of her
as a person on intellectual stilts, with a large share of
arrogance, and little sweetness of temper. How unlike to
this was she now!--so delicate, so simple, confiding, and
affectionate; with a true womanly heart and soul, sensitive
and generous, and, what was to me a still greater surpri