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the color in the face which my face wants； and the firmness in
his figure which my figure wants。 He looks at me with the
tenderest and gentlest eyes （of a light brown） that I ever saw in
the countenance of a man。 His smile is rare and sweet； his
manner； perfectly quiet and retiring； has yet a latent
persuasiveness in it which is （to women） irresistibly winning。 He
just halts a little in his walk； from the effect of an injury
received in past years； when he was a soldier serving in India；
and he carries a thick bamboo cane； with a curious crutch handle
（an old favorite）； to help himself along whenever he gets on his
feet； in doors or out。 With this one little drawback （if it is a
drawback）； there is nothing infirm or old or awkward about him；
his slight limp when he walks has （perhaps to my partial eyes） a
certain quaint grace of its own； which is pleasanter to see than
the unrestrained activity of other men。 And last and best of all；
I love him！ I love him！ I love him！ And there is an end of my
portrait of my husband on our wedding…day。
The glass has told me all I want to know。 We leave the vestry at
last。
The sky； cloudy since the morning； has darkened while we have
been in the church； and the rain is beginning to fall heavily。
The idlers outside stare at us grimly under their umbrellas as we
pass through their ranks and hasten into our carriage。 No
cheering； no sunshine； no flowers strewn in our path； no grand
breakfast； no genial speeches； no bridesmaids； no fathers or
mother's blessing。 A dreary weddingthere is no denying itand
（if Aunt Starkweather is right） a bad beginning as well！
A _coup_ has been reserved for us at the railway station。 The
attentive porter； on the look…out for his fee pulls down the
blinds over the side windows of the carriage； and shuts out all
prying eyes in that way。 After what seems to be an interminable
delay the train starts。 My husband winds his arm round me。 〃At
last！〃 he whispers； with love in his eyes that no words can
utter； and presses me to him gently。 My arm steals round his
neck； my eyes answer his eyes。 Our lips meet in the first long；
lingering kiss of our married life。
Oh； what recollections of that journey rise in me as I write！ Let
me dry my eyes； and shut up my paper for the day。
CHAPTER II。
THE BRIDE'S THOUGHTS。
WE had been traveling for a little more than an hour when a
change passed insensibly over us both。
Still sitting close together； with my hand in his； with my head
on his shoulder； little by little we fell insensibly into
silence。 Had we already exhausted the narrow yet eloquent
vocabulary of love？ Or had we determined by unexpressed consent；
after enjoying the luxury of passion that speaks； to try the
deeper and finer rapture of passion that thinks？ I can hardly
determine； I only know that a time came when； under some strange
influence； our lips were closed toward each other。 We traveled
along； each of us absorbed in our own reverie。 Was he thinking
exclusively of meas I was thinking exclusively of him？ Before
the journey's end I had my doubts； at a little later time I knew
for certain that his thoughts； wandering far away from his young
wife； were all turned inward on his own unhappy self。
For me the secret pleasure of filling my mind with him； while I
felt him by my side； was a luxury in itself。
I pictured in my thoughts our first meeting in the neighborhood
of my uncle's house。
Our famous north…country trout stream wound its flashing and
foaming way through a ravine in the rocky moorland。 It was a
windy； shadowy evening。 A heavily clouded sunset lay low and red
in the west。 A solitary angler stood casting his fly at a turn in
the stream where the backwater lay still and deep under an
overhanging bank。 A girl （myself） standing on the bank； invisible
to the fisherman beneath； waited eagerly to see the trout rise。
The moment came； the fish took the fly。
Sometimes on the little level strip of sand at the foot of the
bank； sometimes （when the stream turned again） in the shallower
water rushing over its rocky bed； the angler followed the
captured trout； now letting the line run out and now winding it
in again； in the difficult and delicate process of 〃playing〃 the
fish。 Along the bank I followed to watch the contest of skill and
cunning between the man and the trout。 I had lived long enough
with my uncle Starkweather to catch some of his enthusiasm for
field sports； and to learn something； especially； of the angler's
art。 Still following the stranger； with my eyes intently fixed on
every movement of his rod and line； and with not so much as a
chance fragment of my attention to spare for the rough path along
which I was walking； I stepped by chance on the loose overhanging
earth at the edge of the bank； and fell into the stream in an
instant。
The distance was trifling； the water was shallow； the bed of the
river was （fortunately for me） of sand。 Beyond the fright and the
wetting I had nothing to complain of。 In a few moments I was out
of the water and up again； very much ashamed of myself； on the
firm ground。 Short as the interval was； it proved long enough to
favor the escape of the fish。 The angler had heard my first
instinctive cry of alarm； had turned； and had thrown aside his
rod to help me。 We confronted each other for the first time； I on
the bank and he in the shallow water below。 Our eyes encountered；
and I verily believe our hearts encountered at the same moment。
This I know for certain； we forgot our breeding as lady and
gentleman： we looked at each other in barbarous silence。
I was the first to recover myself。 What did I say to him？
I said something about my not being hurt； and then something
more； urging him to run back and try if he might not yet recover
the fish。
He went back unwillingly。 He returned to meof course without
the fish。 Knowing how bitterly disappointed my uncle would have
been in his place； I apologized very earnestly。 In my eagerness
to make atonement； I even offered to show him a spot where he
might try again； lower down the stream。
He would not hear of it； he entreated me to go home and change my
wet dress。 I cared nothing for the wetting； but I obeyed him
without knowing why。
He walked with me。 My way back to the Vicarage was his way back
to the inn。 He had come to our parts； he told me； for the quiet
and retirement as much as for the fishing。 He had noticed me once
or twice from the window of his room at the inn。 He asked if I
were not the vicar's daughter。
I set him right。 I told him that the vicar had married my
mother's sister； and that the two had been father and mother to
me since the death of my parents。 He asked if he might venture to
call on Doctor Starkweather the next day； mentioning the name of
a friend of his； with whom he believed the vicar to be
acquainted。 I invited him to visit us； as if it had been my
house； I was spell…bound under his eyes and under his voice。 I
had fancied； honestly fancied； myself to have been in love often
and often before this time。 Never in any other man's company had
I felt as I now felt in the presence of _this_ man。 Night seemed
to fall suddenly over the evening landscape when he left me。 I
leaned against the Vic arage gate。 I could not breathe； I could
not think； my heart fluttered as if it would fly out of my
bosomand all this for a stranger！ I burned with shame； but oh；
in spite of it all； I was so happy！
And now； when little more than a few weeks had passed since that
first meeting； I had him by my side； he was mine for life！ I
lifted my head from his bosom to look at him。 I was like a child
with a new toyI wanted to make sure that he was really my own。
He never noticed the action； he never moved in his corner of the
carriage。 Was he deep in his own thoughts？ and were they thoughts
of Me？
I laid down my head again softly； so as not to disturb him。 My
thoughts wandered backward once more； and showed me another
picture in the golden gallery of the past。
The garden at the Vicarage formed the new scene。 The time was
night。 We had met together in secret。 We were walking slowly to
and fro； out of sight of the house； now in the shadowy paths of
the shrubbery； now in the lovely moonlight on the open lawn。
We had long since owned our love and devoted our lives to each
other。 Already our interests were one； already we shared the
pleasures and the pains of life。 I had gone out to meet him that
night with a heavy heart； to seek comfort in his presence and to
find encouragement in his voice。 He noticed that I sighed when he
first took me in his arms； and he gently turned my head toward
the moonlight to read my trouble in my face。 How often he had
read my happiness there in the earlier days of our love！
〃You bring bad news； my angel；〃 he said； lifting my hair tenderly
from my forehead as he spoke。 〃I see the lines here which tell me
of anxiety and distress。 I almost wish I loved you less dearly；
Valeria。〃
〃Why？〃
〃I might give you back your freedom。 I have only to leave this
place； and your uncle would be satisfied； and you would be
relieved from all the cares that are pressing on you now。〃
〃Don't speak of it