and the fly the best of friends with each other. The _second part_
is the best and surest method of preserving feminine attractions."

"Ah!" exclaimed Louise.

"The former half of the means, then: In the first solitary hour
after the ceremony, take thy bridegroom, and demand a solemn vow of
him, and give him a solemn vow in return. Promise one another
sacredly, _never, not even in mere jest, to wrangle with each
other_; never to bandy words or indulge in the least ill-humour.
_Never!_ I say; never. Wrangling, even in jest, and putting on an
air of ill-humour merely to tease, becomes earnest by practice. Mark
that! Next promise each other, sincerely and solemnly, _never to
have a secret from each other_ under whatever pretext, with whatever
excuse it may be. You must, continually and every moment, see
clearly into each other's bosom. Even when one of you has committed
a fault, wait not an instant, but confess it freely--let it cost
tears, but confess it. And as you keep _nothing secret from each
other_, so, on the contrary, preserve the privacies of your house,
marriage state and heart, from _father, mother, sister, brother,
aunt, and all the world._ You two, with God's help, build your own
quiet world. Every third or fourth one whom you draw into it with
you, will form a party, and stand between you two! That should never
be. Promise this to each other. Renew the vow at each temptation.
You will find your account in it. Your souls will grow as it were
together, and at last will become as one. Ah, if many a young pair
had on their wedding day known this simple secret, and straightway
practised it, how many marriages were happier than, alas, they are!"

Louise kissed her aunt's hand with ardour. "I feel that it must be