“I am capricious, wayward; at times, full of injustice. Love me not less that I am so--that I sometimes show this waywardness to you--that I sometimes do injustice to your love. Bear with me till the dark mood passes from my heart. I have these moods, or have had them, frequently. It may be--I trust it will be--that, blessed with your love, and secure in its possession, there will be no room in my heart for such ugly feelings. But I know not. They sometimes take supreme possession of me. They seize upon me in all places. They wrap my spirit as in a cloud. I sit apart. I scowl upon those around me. I feel moved to say bitter things--to shoot darts in defiance at every glance--to envenom every sentence which I speak. These are cruel moods. I have striven vainly to shake them off. They have grown up with my growth--have shared in whatever strength I have; and, while they embitter my own thoughts and happiness, I dread that they will fling their shadow upon yours!” She replied with gayety, with playfulness, but there was an effort in it. “Oh, you make the matter worse than it is. I suppose all that troubles you is the blues. But you will never have them again. When I see them coming on I will sit by you and sing to you. We will come out here and watch the evening; or you shall read to me, or we will ramble in the garden--or--a thousand things which shall make you forget that there was ever such a thing in the world as sorrow.” “Dear Julia--will you do this?” “More--everything to make you happy.” And she drew me closer in her embrace, and her lips with a tremulous, almost convulsive sweetness, were pressed upon my forehead; and clinging there, oh! how sweetly did she weep! “You will tire of my waywardness--of my exactions. Ah! I shall force you from my side by my caprice.” “You can not, Edward, if you would,” she replied, in mournful accents like my own, “I have no remedy against you! I have nobody now to whom to turn. Have _I_ not driven all from my side--all but you?” It was my task to soothe her now. “Nay, Julia, be not you sorrowful. You must continue glad and blest, that you may conquer my sullen moods, my dark presentiments. When I tell you of the evils of my temper, I tell you of occasional clouds only. Heaven forbid that they should give an enduring aspect to our heavens!” She responded fervently to my ejaculation. I continued:-- “I have only sought to prepare you for the management of my arbitrary nature, to keep you from suffering too much, and sinking beneath its exactions. You will bear with me patiently. Forgive me for my evil hours. Wait till the storm has overblown; and find me your own, then, as much as before; and let me feel that you are still mine--that the tempest has not separated our little vessels.” “Will I not? Ah! do not fear for me, Edward. It is a happiness for me to weep here--here, in your arms. When you are sad and moody, I will come as now.” “What if I repulse you?” “You will not--no, no!--you will not.”