Reader, I Married Him.

It Is A Happy Thing That Time Quells The Longings Of Vengeance And Hushes The Promptings Of Rage And Aversion. I Had Left This Woman In Bitterness And Hate, And I Came Back To Her Now With No Other Emotion Than A Sort Of Ruth For Her Great Sufferings, And Strong Yearning To Forget And Forgive All Injuries - To Be Reconciled And Clasp Hands In Amity.

Gentle Reader, May You Never Feel What I Then Felt! May Your Eyes Never Shed Such Stormy, Scalding, Heart-wrung Tears As Poured From Mine. May You Never Appeal To Heaven In Prayers So Hopeless And So Agised As In That Hour Left My Lips: For Never May You, Like Me, Dread To Be The Instrument Of Evil To What You Wholly Love.

Amid The Worry Of A Self- Condemnatory Soliloquy, His Demeanour Seemed Grave, Perhaps Cold, Both To Me And His Mother. And Yet There Was No Bad Feeling, No Malice, No Rancour, No Littleness In His Countenance, Beautiful With A Man's Best Beauty, Even In Its Depression. When I Placed His Chair At The Table, Which I Hastened To Do, Anticipating The Servant, And When I Handed Him His Tea, Which I Did With Trembling Care, He Said: "thank You, Lucy," In As Kindly A Tone Of His Full Pleasant Voice As Ever My Ear Welcomed.

[o]ur Honeymoon Will Shine Our Life Long: Its Beams Will Only Fade Over Your Grave Or Mine.

I Don't Wish To Treat You Like An Inferior: That Is (correcting Himself), I Claim Only Such Superiority As Must Result From Twenty Years' Difference In Age And A Century's Advance In Experience.