ng down and
crying. I don't want company: if women folks,
they're always talking about their husbands and
children; and if men, they're always saying: 'My
wife's this, and my wife's that.' But I do want
_him_. It's my right; what if I couldn't say three
words to him that was agreeable, I could look at
him and think: 'This splendid gentleman is my
husband, I ain't so much alone in the world as
folks think.' I'll put on my bonnet and run down
the street. Perhaps I'll see him sitting in the
club-house window!"

"EVENING.--I hate him. He has a hard, cruel,
wicked heart. When I got to the club-house window
he was sitting there, so I just went walking by,
and he saw me and came out and hustled me away
with terrible words, saying he wouldn't have me
hanging round where he was; that I had promised
not to bother him, and that I must keep my word,
or he would see me--he didn't say where, but it's
easy enough to guess. So--so! he thinks he'll put
an end to my coming to see him, does he? Well,
perhaps he can; but if he does, he shall pay for
it by coming to see me. I'll not sit day in and
day out alone without the glimpse of a face I
love, not while I have a husband in the same town
with me. He shall come, if it is only for a moment
each day, or I'll dare every thing and tell the
world I am his wife."

"JUNE 16, 1872.--He had to consent! Meek as I have
been, he knows it won't do to rouse me too much.
So to-day he came in to dinner, and he had to
acknowledge it was a good one. Oh, how I did feel
when I saw his face on the other side of the
table! I didn't know whether I hated him or loved
him. But I am sure now I hated him, for he
scarcely spoke to me all the time he was eating,
and when he was through, he went away just as a
stranger would have done. He means to act like a
boarder, and, goodness me, he's welcome to if he
isn't going to act like a husband! The hard,
selfish---- Oh, oh, I love him!"

"AUGUST 5, 1872.--It is no use; I'll never be a
happy woman. Tremont has been in so regularly to