verity, that he was
not worthy of confidence. It seemed quite as credible that another man
should invent a lie, as that Mr. Seabrook should be guilty of an
enormous crime.

"Naturally I had a buoyant temper; was inclined to see the amusing side
of things; enjoyed frolicsome conversation; and in a general way was
well fitted to bear up under worries, and recover quickly from depressed
conditions. The gentlemen who boarded with me were a cheerful and
intelligent set, whose conversation entertained me, as they met three
times a day at table. They were all friends of Mr. Seabrook, which gave
them the privilege of saying playful things to me about him daily. To
these remarks I must make equally playful replies, or seem ungracious to
them. You will see how every such circumstance complicated my
difficulties afterwards.

"You know, too, how pliable we all are at twenty-three--how often our
opinions waver and our emotions change. I was particularly mercurial in
my temperament before the events I am relating hardened me. I often laid
in a half-waking state almost all night, my imagination full of horrible
images; and when breakfast-time came, and I listened to an hour of
entertaining talk, with frequent respectful allusions to Mr. Seabrook,
and kindly compliments to myself, these ugly visions took flight, while
I persuaded myself that everything would come out right in the end.

"A little while ago you asked me if I did not love Mr. Seabrook at
all?--did not long for tenderness from him? The question roused
something of the wickedness in me that I confessed to you before; but I
will answer the inquiry now, by asking _you_ if you think any woman in
her twenties is quite reconciled to live unloved? I had not wished to
marry again; yet undoubtedly there was a great blank in my life, which
my peculiarly friendless condition made me very sensible of; and there
_was_ a yearning desire in my heart to be petted and cared for, as in my
brief married life I had been. But the coarseness and intrusiveness I
had experienced in my widowhood had made me as irritable as the 'fretful
porcupine' towards that class of men. The thought of Mr. Seabrook loving
me had never taken root in my mind. Even when he proposed marriage, it
had seemed much more a matter of expediency than of love. But when,
after I had accepted him as an avowed lover, his conduct had continued
to be unintrusive, and delicately flattering to my womanly pride, it was
most nat