first meeting, I had him by my side; he was mine for life! I
lifted my head from his bosom to look at him. I was like a child
with a new toy--I wanted to make sure that he was really my own.

He never noticed the action; he never moved in his corner of the
carriage. Was he deep in his own thoughts? and were they thoughts
of Me?

I laid down my head again softly, so as not to disturb him. My
thoughts wandered backward once more, and showed me another
picture in the golden gallery of the past.

The garden at the Vicarage formed the new scene. The time was
night. We had met together in secret. We were walking slowly to
and fro, out of sight of the house, now in the shadowy paths of
the shrubbery, now in the lovely moonlight on the open lawn.

We had long since owned our love and devoted our lives to each
other. Already our interests were one; already we shared the
pleasures and the pains of life. I had gone out to meet him that
night with a heavy heart, to seek comfort in his presence and to
find encouragement in his voice. He noticed that I sighed when he
first took me in his arms, and he gently turned my head toward
the moonlight to read my trouble in my face. How often he had
read my happiness there in the earlier days of our love!

"You bring bad news, my angel," he said, lifting my hair tenderly
from my forehead as he spoke. "I see the lines here which tell me
of anxiety and distress. I almost wish I loved you less dearly,
Valeria."