"But you can write that down without wounding her, can you not? Do so, I
entreat you. Dear mamma," said she, addressing Pauline, "ask papa to do
so, and then I will come and dine with you sometimes."

Pauline laughed with all her heart as she addressed me as husband, and
begged me to write the desired epistle. The effect on the mother could
only let her know how much I loved her daughter, and would consequently
increase her love for her child. I gave in, saying that I could not
refuse anything to the adorable woman who had honoured me with the name
of husband. Sophie kissed us, and went away in a happy mood.

"It's a long time since I have laughed so much," said Pauline, "and I
don't think I have ever had such an agreeable meal. That child is a
perfect treasure. She is unhappy, poor little girl, but she would not be
so if I were her mother."

I then told her of the true relationship between Sophie and myself, and
the reasons I had for despising her mother.

"I wonder what she will say when Sophie tells her that she found you at
table with your wife."

"She won't believe it, as she knows my horror for the sacrament of
matrimony."

"How is that?"

"I hate it because it is the grave of love."

"Not always."