THE PRIVATE MARRIAGE.

The high-minded friend, spoken of with such grateful affection by Margaret, in her letter to her mother, thus gracefully narrates the romance of her marriage; and the narrative is a noble proof of the heroic disinterestedness with which, amidst her own engrossing trials, Margaret devoted herself to others.  Mrs. Story writes as follows:—­

“During the month of November, 1847, we arrived in Rome, purposing to spend the winter there.  At that time, Margaret was living in the house of the Marchesa ——­, in the Corso, Ultimo Piano.  Her rooms were pleasant and cheerful, with a certain air of elegance and refinement, but they had not a sunny exposure, that all-essential requisite for health, during the damp Roman winter.  Margaret suffered from ill health this winter, and she afterwards attributed it mainly to the fact, that she had not the sun.  As soon as she heard of our arrival, she stretched forth a friendly, cordial hand, and greeted us most warmly.  She gave us great assistance in our search for convenient lodgings, and we were soon happily established near her.  Our intercourse was henceforth most frequent and intimate, and knew no cloud nor coldness.  Daily we were much with her, and daily we felt more sensible of the worth and value of our friend.  To me she seemed so unlike what I had thought her to be in America, that I continually said, ’How have I misjudged you,—­you are not at all such a person as I took you to be.’  To this she replied, ’I am not the same person, but in many respects another;—­my life has new channels now, and how thankful I am that I have been able to come out into larger interests,—­but, partly, you did not know me at home in the true light.’  It was true, that I had not known her much personally, when in Boston; but through her friends, who were mine also, I had learned to think of her as a person on intellectual stilts, with a large share of arrogance, and little sweetness of temper.  How unlike to this was she now!—­so delicate, so simple, confiding, and affectionate; with a true womanly heart and soul, sensitive and generous, and, what was to me a still greater surprise, possessed of so broad a charity, that she could cover with its mantle the faults and defects of all about her.

“We soon became acquainted with the young Marquis Ossoli, and met him frequently at Margaret’s rooms.  He appeared to be of a reserved and gentle nature, with quiet, gentleman-like manners, and there was something melancholy in the expression of his face, which made one desire to know more of him.  In figure, he was tall, and of slender frame, with dark hair and eyes; we judged that he was about thirty years of age, possibly younger.  Margaret spoke of him most frankly, and soon told us the history of her first acquaintance with him, which, as nearly as I can recall, was as follows:—­

“She went to hear vespers, the