Home, realm of woman, pleasant shelter of her youth, gentle dominion granted to her life, I can say that thou hast yielded me some of the purest and deepest joys.
Before leaving Leigh, we saw my grandfather, who received us kindly, and bade Cornelius be fond of me. We have now been married three years. He declares he is more in love with me than on the first day, and I believe it. Kate says "nonsense!" but I know well enough she likes us to be so fond of one another. She, too, is very happy; for though she agrees with me that Cornelius has not yet obtained the position he deserves to have, yet, as he is universally acknowledged to be a genuine artist, as his pictures are prized, and sell well, she assures me that, spite of professional jealousy, he will one day be held second to none. I tell her I am sure of it. Cornelius laughs at us, and thinks the very same thing in his heart, for he works harder, and, though he will not confess it, is more eager and ambitious than ever.
We are, as we have always been, a good deal together; for we have no children to divert my attention. This is the only sore point with Kate. It seems such a thing never happened before in the O'Reilly family, and she cannot make it out. But Cornelius and I do not mind; we are young, happy and leave the future to Providence.
It was last year, when Cornelius went to Spain—for he did go after all, but only for a few months, and I did not like to leave Kate, who seemed to me rather unwell—that I began this narrative. I had just received a letter from William Murray, who wrote to tell me that he was married and happy. My past life seemed to rise before me; so, to recal it, and divert my mind from dwelling too much on the absence of Cornelius, I one evening wrote a few pages, to which, day after day, more were added.
Oh my husband! my handsome, gifted husband! I love you much, very much, more than I shall ever tell you, and far more than I have dared to write even here; but if you should some day chance to see that which I never meant to be seen, know, at least, that to your wife, there never was a pleasanter task than thus to record the story of her long love for you, as child, girl, and woman.
THE END.
PRINTING OFFICE OF THE PUBLISHER.
Typographical errors silently corrected: