d by that
time we should very probably have outgrown our liking for each other;
still, if we chose, we might consider ourselves engaged; he did not
know that he had any objection to make. This manner of treating the
subject was not a flattering one; however, we had his consent,--and
that was the main point, after all.

So we were troth-plight; and William went forth on his career of labor
and success, and I remained at home, loving him, living for him,
striving to make my every act what he would have it. I went into
company as he had bidden me; I studied and improved myself; I grew
handsomer, too. All who saw me noticed and approved the alteration in
my appearance. I was no longer awkward and stooping; my manner had
acquired something of ease and gracefulness; a faint bloom tinged my
cheek and made my dark eyes brighter. I was truly happy in the change;
it seemed to render me a little more suited to him, who was so proudly,
so splendidly handsome.

I remembered what he had said too well to spend much time in
love-dreams; but my happiest moments were when I was alone, and could
think of him, read his letters, look at his picture, and fancy the
joyfulness of his return.

His letters!--there the change first showed itself. At first they were
all, and more than all, I could wish. I blushed to read the ardent
words, as I did when he had spoken them. But by-and-by there was a
different tone: I could not describe it; there was nothing to complain
of; and yet I felt--so surely!--that something was wrong. I never
thought of blaming him; I dreaded lest I had in some way wounded his
affection or his pride. I asked no explanation; I thought to do so
might annoy or vex him, for his was a peculiar nature. I only wrote to
him the more fondly,--strove more and more to show him how my whole
heart was his. But the change grew plainer as months passed on; and
some weeks before the time appointed for his return, the letters ceased
altogether.

This conduct grieved me, certainly, yet I was more perplexed than
unhappy. It never occurred to me to doubt his love; I thought there
must be some mistake, some offence unwittingly given, and I looked to
his coming to clear away all doubt and trouble. But I longed so for
that coming!--it seemed as if the weeks would never end. I knew he
loved me; but I needed to hear him say it once more,--to have every
shadow dispelled, and nothing between us but the warmest affection and
fullest confidence.