* * * * * We were laughing to-day--Laurence and I--about _first loves_. It was scarcely a subject for mirth; but one of his bachelor friends had been telling us of a new-married couple, who, in some comical fashion, mutually made the discovery of each other's "first loves." I said to my husband, smiling happily, "that _he_ need have no such fear." And I repeated, half in sport, the lines-- "'He was her own, her ocean treasure, cast Like a rich wreck--her first love, and her last.' So it was with your poor Adelaide." Touched by the thought, my gayety melted almost into tears. But I laughed them off, and added, "Come, Laurence, confess the same. You never, never loved any one but me?" He looked pained, said coldly, "I believe I have not given cause--" then stopped. How I trembled; but I went up to him, and whispered, "Laurence, dearest, forgive me." He looked at me a moment, then caught me passionately to his breast. I wept there a little--my heart was so full. Yet I could not help again murmuring that question--"You love me? you _do_ love me?" "I love you as I never before loved woman. I swear this in the sight of heaven. Believe it, my wife!" was his vehement answer. I hated myself for having so tried him. My dear, my noble husband! I was mad to have a moment's doubt of thee. * * * * * * * * Nearly a year married, and it seems a brief day: yet it seems, also, like a lifetime--as if I had never known any other. My Laurence! daily I grow closer to him--heart to heart. I understand him better--if possible, I love him more: not with the wild worship of my girlhood, but with something dearer--more home-like. I would not have him an "angel," if I could. I know all his little faults and weaknesses quite well--I do not shut my eyes on any of them; but I gaze openly at them, and _love_ them down. There is love enough in my heart to fill up all chasms--to remove all stumbling-blocks from our path. Ours is truly a wedded life: not two jarring lives, but an harmonious and complete _one_. * * * * * I have taken a long journey, and am somewhat dreary at being away, even for three days, from my pleasant home. But Laurence was obliged to go, and I would not let him go alone; though, from tender fear, he urged me to stay. So kind and thoughtful he was too. Because his engagements here would keep him much from me, he made me take likewise my sister Louisa. She is a good girl, and a dear girl; but I miss Laurence; I did especially in my walk to-day, through a lovely, wooded country and a sweet little village. I was thinking of him all the time; so much so, that I quite started when I heard one of the village children shouted after as "Laurence."