“I know not how it is, but it is always delicious weather to me, even when it rains--as it does furiously to-day; for we have just come in, driven home by the storm.
“During our ride to-day, I took occasion to question him quietly as to some points of our history which puzzled me. First, why had he married me?
“‘Because you pleased me apparently, Miss Mary.’ He likes to give me this name, which recalls to him I know not what episode of my untamed youth--untamed still to him.
“‘If I pleased you, why did I see you so seldom?’
“‘Because I did not wish to court you until I had decided on marrying.’
“‘How could I have pleased you, not being at all beautiful?’
“‘You are not beautiful, it is true,’ replies this cruel young man, ‘but you are very pretty; and above all you are grace itself, like your mother.’
“All these obscure points being cleared up to the complete satisfaction of Miss Mary, Miss Mary took to fast galloping; not because it was raining, but because she became suddenly--we do not know the reason why--as red as a poppy.
“Oh, beloved mother! how sweet it is to be loved by him we adore, and to be loved precisely as we wish--as we have dreamed--according to the exact programme of our young, romantic hearts!
“Did you ever believe I had ideas on such a delicate subject? Yes, dear mother, I had them. Thus, it seemed to me there were many different styles of loving--some vulgar, some pretentious, some foolish, and others, again, excessively comic. None of these seemed suited to the Prince, our neighbor. I ever felt he should love, like the Prince he is, with grace and dignity; with serious tenderness, a little stern perhaps; with amiability, but almost with condescension--as a lover, but as a master, too--in fine, like my husband!
“Dear angel, who art my mother! be happy in my happiness, which was your sole work. I kiss your hands--I kiss your wings!
“If you were near me, it would be too much happiness! I should die, I think. Nevertheless, come to us very soon. Your chamber awaits you. It is as blue as the heavens in which I float. I have already told you this, but I repeat it.
“Good-by, mother of the happiest woman in the world!
“You made me weep--I who await you every morning. I will say nothing to you, however; I will not beg you. If the health of my grandfather seems to you so feeble as to demand your presence, I know no prayer would take you away from your duty. Nor would I make the prayer, my angel mother!