one of our Christmas roses this morning. We have taken great care
to keep them from being splashed and spoilt. There was not a speck
on it. I put it in water and could not take my eyes off it. Its
white flower lay spread open and I could look right down into it. I
thought of you. When you were a little one--ay, and after you were
out of short frocks--you never feared to show me every thought in
your mind, you always declared that if you had wished to hide
anything from me, it would have been of no use to try. What a
blessing that was to me! How dreadful it would be if, now that you
are married, you were to change! I am sure you will not and cannot.


HOMERTON, 1st January 1839.

The New Year! What will happen before the end of it? I feel as if
it must be something strange. I have just read your last letter
again, and I cannot hold myself in. My dearest mother, I confess I
am wretched. It might be supposed that misery like mine would
express itself with no effort, but it is not so: it would be far
easier to describe ordinary things. I am afraid also to talk about
it, lest that which is dim and shapeless should become more real.

Since the day we were married Charles and I have never openly
quarrelled. He is really good: he spends his evenings at home and
does not seem to desire entertainment elsewhere. He likes to see me
well-dressed and does not stint in house expenditure, although he
examines it carefully and pays a good many of the bills himself by
cheque. He has been promoted to be manager of the bank, and takes
up his new duties to-day. Mrs. Perkins, whose husband is one of the
partners, told me that he had said that there is nobody in the bank