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For the rest, well written or badly written, Collins Heaven it the done! Her nose just inclines toward the aquiline bend, and is considered a little too large by streaming difficult to please in the matter of noses. Oh, what recollections of that journey rise in me as I write! With trembling fingers I free the pen through my first effort, and wrote my maiden name, very badly indeed, as follows:.

I was too bewildered to know. Be pleased, then, to remember First : That the actions of human beings are not invariably governed by the laws of pure reason. Still sitting close together, with my hand in his, with my head on his shoulder, little by little we fell insensibly into silence. I love him! At the same time my aunt, Mrs.

Starkweather, standing by my side, tapped me smartly on the shoulder, and said. Where were my thoughts? My heart sank a little, dearly as I loved my husband, when I had seen the last of the true friend and protector of my maiden days. I had lost both my parents, and I had but few friends. 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 favoriteto help himself along whenever he gets on his feet, in doors or out.

She is not at all the sort of person who attracts attention in the street, seeing that she fails to exhibit the popular yellow hair and the popular painted cheeks. The last ceremony left to be performed was, as usual, the ing of the marriage register. Her eyes are of lady dark a blue that they are generally mistaken for black.

The idlers outside stare at us grimly under their umbrellas as we pass through their ranks and hasten into our carriage. The sky, cloudy since the morning, has darkened while we have been in the church, and the rain is beginning to fall heavily. 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 coup has been reserved for us at the railway station. He seemed to be almost as much bewildered as I was.

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Well, well! Beyond the fright and the wetting I had nothing to complain of. The parting with old Benjamin came next. Thirdly and Lastly : That Characters which may not have appeared, and Events which may not have taken place, within the limits of our own individual experience, may nevertheless be perfectly natural Characters and perfectly probable Events, for all that. And there is an end of my portrait of my husband on our wedding-day.

Having said these few words, I have said all that seems to be necessary at the present time, in presenting my new Story to your notice. He had known me fromand, in my forlorn position, he was as good as a father to me. On her head is a bonnet to match, relieved by a quilling of white muslin with one deep red rose, as a morsel of positive color, to complete the effect of the whole dress. As to the face in general, it is too narrow and too long at the lower part, too broad and too low in the higher regions of the eyes and the head.

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For me the secret pleasure of filling my mind with him, while I felt him by my side, was a luxury in itself. Along the bank I followed to watch the contest of skill and cunning between the man and the trout.

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A girl myself standing on the bank, invisible to the fisherman beneath, waited eagerly to see the trout rise. But the old days at home came back on me at those few words. A dreary wedding—there is no denying it—and if Aunt Starkweather is right a bad beginning as well! Besides, crying will spoil your beauty. Our lips meet in the first long, lingering kiss of our married life.

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His big chestnut-colored beard and his long overhanging mustache are prematurely streaked with gray. Come, come! Except my uncle and my aunt, no other relations appeared on my side. He has the color in the face which my face wants, and the firmness in his figure which my figure wants. 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.

He folded me in his great strong arms, and he gave me a kiss which must certainly have been heard by the idlers waiting for the bride and bridegroom outside the church door. My aunt Starkweather settled the question by a second tap on my shoulder. 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.

Try again, Valeria—try again. My husband winds his arm round me. The church was in one of the dreary quarters of London, situated between the City and the West End; the day was dull; the atmosphere was heavy and damp. The mouth, her best feature, is very delicately shaped, and is capable of presenting great varieties of expression.

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I can hardly determine; I only know that a time came when, under some strange influence, our lips were closed toward each other. He looks at me with the tenderest and gentlest eyes of a light brown that I ever saw in the countenance of a man.

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IN offering this book to you, I have no Preface to write. And last and best of all, I love him! Was he thinking exclusively of me—as I was thinking exclusively of him?

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It was a windy, shadowy evening. Had we already exhausted the narrow yet eloquent vocabulary of love? My arm steals round his neck; my eyes answer his eyes. I see a man who is not quite so tall as I am, and who has the misfortune of looking older than his years. Let me dry my eyes, and shut up my paper for the day. We traveled along, each of us absorbed in our own reverie.

It is not for me to say. Her complexion is pale: except in moments of violent agitation there is no color to be seen in her face. Have I succeeded or failed in describing the picture of myself which I see in the glass?

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Good-by, child—and God bless you! We were a melancholy little wedding party, worthy of the dreary neighborhood and the dull day. His forehead is prematurely bald.

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My aunt, on being requested tocomplied under protest. The distance was trifling, the water was shallow, the bed of the river was fortunately for me of sand. Her hair is black; dressed, in these later days as it was dressed years since to please her fatherin broad ripples drawn back from the forehead, and gathered into a simple knot behind like the hair of the Venus de Medicisso as to show the neck beneath.

I have done my best to keep clear of the two vanities—the vanity of depreciating and the vanity of praising my own personal appearance. As for her dress, it studiously conceals, instead of proclaiming, that she has been married that morning. Secondly : That we are by no means always in the habit of bestowing our love on the objects which are the most deserving of it, in the opinions of our friends.

I have only to request that you will bear in mind certain established truths, which occasionally escape your memory when you are reading a work of fiction. Our famous north-country trout stream wound its flashing and foaming way through a ravine in the rocky moorland. A heavily clouded sunset lay low and red in the west. The two clergymen led us into the vestry. After what seems to be an interminable delay the train starts. I started and looked at my new husband.

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The glass shows a tall and slender young woman of three-and-twenty years of age. You are old enough to choose for yourself, and—no offense, Mr. Woodville, you and I are new friends—and I pray God, Valeria, it may turn out that you have chosen well. I ed my married instead of my maiden name. Concluding the Marriage Service of the Church of England in those well-known words, my uncle Starkweather shut up his book, and looked at me across the altar rails with a hearty expression of interest on his broad, red face.

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He tucked my aunt under his arm, and hurried out. 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. What had become of my attention? She wears a gray cashmere tunic trimmed with gray silk, and having a skirt of the same material and color beneath it. The good man had left his north-country Vicarage my home since the death of my parents expressly to read the service at my marriage; and he and my aunt had arranged to return by the mid-day train.

On the contrary, if this change in your life makes you happier, I rejoice. The whole picture, as reflected in the glass, represents a woman of some elegance, rather too pale, and rather too sedate and serious in her moments of silence and repose—in short, a person who fails to strike the ordinary observer at first sight, but who gains in general estimation on a second, and sometimes on a third view.

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Her eyebrows are well enough in form, but they are too dark and too strongly marked. With this one little drawback if it is a drawbackthere 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. The same thought had, as I believe, occurred to us both at the same moment.

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Dry your eyes and look in the glass there, and you will see that I am right. WE had been traveling for a little more than an hour when a change passed insensibly over us both. 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?