I said I was lonely, and hadn't been
used to spending my evenings all by myself.
"You must get some of your friends to come and see you, poor child,"
he said.
"I don't want friends," I sobbed out. "I want you."
"Yes, darling; why didn't you tell me so sooner? Of course I will
stay with you if you wish it."
"If that is your only reason, I am sure I don't want you," I pouted.
He looked puzzled.
"I really don't know what to do," he said, with a most comical look
of perplexity. But he went to his office, and brought up a pile of
fusty old books.
"Now, dear," he said, "we understand each other I think. I can read
here just as well as down stairs. Get your book and we shall be as
cosy as possible."
My heart felt sore and dissatisfied. Am I unreasonable and childish?
What is married life? An occasional meeting, a kiss here and a caress
there? or is it the sacred union of the twain who 'walk together side
by side, knowing each other's joys and sorrows, and going Heavenward
hand in hand?
FEB. 17.-Mrs. Embury has been here to-day. I longed to compare notes
with her, and find out whether it really is my fault that I am not
quite happy. But I could not bear to open my heart to her on so
sacred a subject. We had some general conversation, however, which
did me good for the time, at least.
She said she thought one of the first lessons a wife should learn is
self-forgetfulness.
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