I trust to love my
husband. I am grateful for his tender love to me. I believe him to
be an affectionate, a conscientious, a high-principled man; and if,
with all this, I should yield to regrets that fine talents, congenial
tastes and thoughts are not added, it seems to me I should be most
presumptuous and thankless.
'Providence offers me this destiny. Doubtless, then, it is the best
for me. Nor do I shrink from wishing those dear to me one not less
happy.
'It is possible that our marriage may take place in the course of the
summer. Mr. Nicholls wishes it to be in July. He spoke of you with
great kindness, and said he hoped you would be at our wedding. I
said I thought of having no other bridesmaid. Did I say rightly? I
mean the marriage to be literally as quiet as possible.
'Do not mention these things just yet. I mean to write to Miss
Wooler shortly. Good-bye. There is a strange half-sad feeling in
making these announcements. The whole thing is something other than
imagination paints it beforehand; cares, fears, come mixed
inextricably with hopes. I trust yet to talk the matter over with
you. Often last week I wished for your presence and said so to Mr.
Nicholls--Arthur, as I now call him, but he said it was the only time
and place when he could not have wished to see you.
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