admiration.

I have no doubt it would all be interesting enough, if properly
remembered and ably told. But it was all too much like a
dream--anybody's dream--not one of _mine_--all too slight and flimsy to
have left an abiding remembrance, or to matter much.

In due time I was removed to the jail at----, and bade farewell to the
world, and adapted myself to the conditions of my new outer life with a
good grace and with a very light heart.

The prison routine, leaving the brain so free and unoccupied; the
healthy labor, the pure air, the plain, wholesome food were delightful
to me--a much-needed daily mental rest after the tumultuous emotions of
each night.

For I was soon back again in Passy, where I spent every hour of my
sleep, you may be sure, never very far from the old apple-tree, which
went through all its changes, from bare bough to tender shoots and
blossoms, from blossom to ripe fruit, from fruit to yellow falling leaf,
and then to bare boughs again, and all in a few peaceful nights, which
were my days. I flatter myself by this time that I know the habits of a
French apple-tree, and its caterpillars!

And all the dear people I loved, and of whom I could never tire, were
about--all but one. _The_ One!

At last she arrived. The garden door was pushed, the bell rang, and she
came across the lawn, radiant and tall and swift, and opened wide her
arms. And there, with our little world around us--all that we had ever