It was during our ride home that the old lady, one of my foster-mothers, suggested to me the plan, the propriety of my paying my addresses to Miss Raymond, ‘For,’ said she, ‘it is the duty of a young pastor to consider in his marriage the welfare of his parish.’ “I took her advice. I wooed Fanny Raymond—did I love her? No; but her extreme youth, her beauty and graceful shyness strongly attracted me—through that idiosyncrasy that lured me to the pursuit of such. I wooed her, but she avoided, fled from me. That added zest to the chase. I had her father’s interest, and I married her. I married her, despite of her reluctance, or rather _because_ of her reluctance, and despite of tears, prayers, and resistance. (Here notwithstanding the chastening of illness and sorrow, his eye and lip glowed as with the recollection of piquant joy.) I married her. The wild shy creature, full of emotion as a harp is of music, was in my power—in my grasp. Oh! the wild beating of my heart, when I had caught and held the fluttering bird! Did I love her now? Yes! as the fire loves the fuel it consumes. And _then_ she loved _me_, Sophie! or rather _no_, I will not profane the word that expresses _your_ pure affection for me, Sophie. But she grew passionately, insanely fond of me—she loved me as the drunkard loves the bowl he feels is his destruction—as the moth loves the flame that must consume it. And then, Sophie! _then_, she lost all attractions for me! From indifference I grew almost to loathe her. I struggled against this growing disgust, but it overmastered me. Poor Fanny! if she had not been the simplest child on earth, if she had possessed the slightest speck of coquetry, this aversion might have been delayed. Poor Fanny!” (Here, overcome by his feelings, he covered his brow with his hand. How quickly varying emotions chased each other through his heart; but this belonged to the high action of his disease.) “We lived with her father. Fanny became a mother at sixteen. General Raymond lived to bless his grandson, and then was gathered to his fathers. We continued to reside at the villa. I utterly neglected her. At the slightest display of fondness on her part, I grew freezingly cold. This was _real_, this was a feeling it was useless to struggle against, as I had found, and as at last she understood. Fanny grieved, suffered, and sought solace in her child. As years passed, she became calm, grew accustomed and reconciled to her lot; and how beautiful she grew as her day advanced from its morning freshness towards the noonday glory it was destined never to reach. How beautiful! At least all the parish said so. _I_ could not feel her beauty. Years slid serenely, imperceptibly, over us. We were prosperous. I had the largest property, the most elegant house, and the most beautiful wife in the parish. Besides which I had a growing celebrity. I was vain-glorious, Sophie, _not proud_. There is this difference between