was in such
a melancholy frame I could hardly keep the tears out of my eyes while she
dressed me. It was not for Lord Lowborough--it was not for Annabella--it
was not for myself--it was for Arthur Huntingdon that they rose.

* * * * *

13th.--They are gone, and he is gone. We are to be parted for more than
two months, above ten weeks! a long, long time to live and not to see
him. But he has promised to write often, and made me promise to write
still oftener, because he will be busy settling his affairs, and I shall
have nothing better to do. Well, I think I shall always have plenty to
say. But oh! for the time when we shall be always together, and can
exchange our thoughts without the intervention of these cold go-betweens,
pen, ink, and paper!

* * * * *

22nd.--I have had several letters from Arthur already. They are not
long, but passing sweet, and just like himself, full of ardent affection,
and playful lively humour; but there is always a 'but' in this imperfect
world, and I do wish he would sometimes be serious. I cannot get him to
write or speak in real, solid earnest. I don't much mind it now, but if
it be always so, what shall I do with the serious part of myself?

CHAPTER XXIII

Feb. 18, 1822.--Early this morning Arthur mounted his hunter and set off
in high glee to meet the -- hounds. He will be away all day, and so I
will amuse myself with my neglected diary, if I can give that name to
such an irregular composition. It is exactly four months since I opened
it last.

I am married now, and settled down as Mrs. Huntingdon of Grassdale Manor.
I have had eight weeks' experience of matrimony. And do I regret the
step I have taken? No, though I must confess, in my secret heart, that
Arthur is not what I thought him at first, and if I had known him in the
beginning as thoroughly as I do now, I probably never should have loved
him, and if I loved him first, and then made the discovery, I fear I
should have thought it my duty not to have married him. To be sure I
might have known him, for every one was willing enough to tell me about
him, and he himself was no accomplished hypocrite, but I was wilfully
blind; and now, instead of regretting that I did not discern his full
character before I was indissolubly bound to him, I am glad, for it has
saved me a great deal of battling with my conscience, and a great deal of
consequent t