While he tries to relieve his swelling heart by putting its throbs on
paper (and, in truth, this is some faint relief, for want of which many a
less unhappy man than Hazel has gone mad), let us stay by the lady's
side, and read her letter with her.

"RUSSELL SQUARE, Dec. 15, 1865.

"MY DEAR LOVE-- Hearing that the _Antelope_ steam-packet was going to
Sydney, by way of Cape Horn, I have begged the captain, who is under some
obligations to me, to keep a good lookout for the _Shannon,_ homeward
bound, and board her with these lines, weather permitting.

"Of course the chances are you will not receive them at sea; but still
you possibly may; and my heart is so full of you, I seize any excuse for
overflowing; and then I picture to myself that bright face reading an
unexpected letter in mid-ocean, and so I taste beforehand the greatest
pleasure my mind can conceive--the delight of giving you pleasure, my own
sweet Helen.

"News, I have little. You know how deeply and devotedly you are
beloved--know it so well that I feel words are almost wasted in repeating
it Indeed, the time, I hope, is at hand when the word 'love' will hardly
be mentioned between us. For my part, I think it will be too visible in
every act, and look, and word of mine, to need repetition. We do not
speak much about the air we live in. We breathe it, and speak with it,
not of it.

"I suppose all lovers are jealous. I think I should go mad if you were to
give me a rival; but then I do not understand that ill-natured jealousy