"In the autumn of 1828, I went to Rome for the winter. There I first met her, whose image from that hour to the present has never left me. Though her great personal beauty, both of face and figure, joined to her remarkable mental endowments, rendered her the object of universal admiration, yet I alone won the affections of her generous heart, a heart which, though warm and impulsive beyond even the daughters of her native clime, was pure as that of a vestal. "But my throbbing pulse and trembling hand warn me not to delay at this point of my story. Suffice it to say that I returned with my beloved Imogen to Nice, and our betrothal receiving the sanction of her parents, we were married; their only condition being a promise from me, that when I was ordered abroad, (I was then in command of troops in his majesty's service,) she should return to them to remain during my absence. "No language can describe to you the happiness experienced by us during the few years which followed. An amount of happiness not often vouchsafed to man. Alas! _alas!_ I sought nothing beyond the felicity of the present hour. I adored my wife, and lovely boy, but forgot even the being of that God, who had blessed me so far beyond the common lot of mortals. But early in the year of 1833, I was fully awakened to a sense of my bliss, by the thought of the terrible separation which had now become necessary. I received orders to join my regiment and go to India. I had taken one furlough after another, but now there could be no more delay. In the first frenzy of her despair at losing me, Imogen insisted upon accompanying me. But earnestly as my heart seconded this appeal, I could not be so rash as to allow it. It was within a few months of her accouchement; and I determined not to leave her until she was safe in Nice under the care of her parents. This, however, circumstances compelled me to do. At this crisis, Ralph Mortimer, a young officer, who was dear to me as a brother, arrived in England. He had sold out his commission, and was intending to go to France to recruit his wasted strength and spirits. I met him accidentally, and in a few moments had communicated to him the nature and depth of my affliction. He was somewhat roused from his melancholy by my distress; and without detailing minutely what followed, it was at length decided that I should remain with my family until the time of sailing, and then Mortimer would proceed to Nice with Imogen and our boy. I presented every possible inducement to him to remain in Nice, that I might feel in case of her parents' death, or any unforeseen event, that my dear wife would have a protector. She, however, in private informed me that she feared constant intercourse with a man so morose and melancholy would only prey upon her spirits. But I hoped much from her influence to overcome this morbid state, and as there was no living being in whom I had such entire confidence, I rather urged this upon her. My friend I