The Argosy — page 371: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

350 Extracts from the Diary of a Young Lady. so good. I think there must have been some great grief in his life which has made him more thoughtful and serious than young men generally are, and left a tinge of melancholy in his character. Jan. rst.—With the new year I will begin my journal again. I haze neglected it, but how can I be blamed for that? First, there was the honeymoon, spent in that most delightful of all ways of spending time, travelling ; and during our delicious tétes-a-téte how could I find time to write? And then the settling at home, the gradual subsiding into home life, the receiving and returning visits and going to all the parties given in our honour; and then every moment that we could spend téte-a-téte 1 grudged bestowing on any other occupation. But visits are not so frequent now; they all have been paid and returned, and Marcus, of course, has sometimes business in which I cannot join, and that obliges him to leave me for awhile; therefore I am going to begin my journal. Jan. 17.—What a wonderful man he is. I did not know a young man could be like him. He thinks so much of duty and doing good, and so very much of not being drawn into temptations, of not giving oneself the chance of sinning; and all this not for himself so much as for others. It is a beautiful character, this husband of mine possesses, and the more I study it, the more I see to admire and respect as well as to love in it. Lucky girl that I am! And how good I ought to become in such companionship. Jan. zoth.—We were walking in the shrubberies to-day. The place is so full of evergreens that on a mild winter’s day one might fancy oneself in a rich green autumn. ‘The sun shone, the sky was a pale blue just flecked with little clouds, and I was happy. I paused at an old sundial to examine it, and turning to speak to my husband I found his eyes fixed on me with an expression I could hardly read. Then again that old impression came over me that I had seen his eyes before I had seen him. Sad folly! I think it must be that when true lovers meet they recognise each other’s souls, as what they have been waiting for; and his soul looks at me through those blue eyes of his, and so I seem to have seen the eyes them- selves before. ‘That winter’s sky I stood under to-day is not so blue as Marcus’s eyes. I do wonder whether I have seen any other eyes like them. It seems hardly possible. No one is hke my husband. “Why do you look at me so, Marcus ?” I asked gently. ‘‘T was thinking of the song ‘Strangers Yet,’” he replied. ‘ That wicked, false song!” I cried; ‘‘ you know there is not a word of truth in it.” “Now I scarcely think I agree with you, there.” ‘What, are we strangers yet ?” I exclaimed indignantly. “Are we not?” he answered smiling. ‘‘ Do you know me?” ‘‘Ves, a thousand times yes!” I cried; “‘I know you entirely ; better than I know myself.” “Vou do?” He smiled again, but it wasasadsmile. ‘“ No, Lucy, CONNICLMOOOKS.(e@)