“As for accomplishments, she may vie with any fine lady in the land.  Last night she played me a piece from Mendelssohn, and her little hands danced like lightning about the keys.  It was rather long, to be sure; but I could not help stealing from behind her and kissing the dear fingers when it was over.

“She has written some exquisite verses, much in the style of Byron—­a poet not easily imitated, you will remember.  She has read every line of Thackeray; and during one of our morning walks, she proved to me, who am not easily moved from my point, that Carlyle has only one idea.  Let me recommend you to peruse this writer’s ‘French Revolution’ again, and you will be satisfied that my Carrie is right.

“I trouble you, my dear fellow, with all these details, that you may not run away with the notion that Flowerdew is blindly in love.  My faculties were never more completely about me than they are at this moment.  I am at a loss to imagine why a man should throw his head away when he yields his heart.  I can look dispassionately at my wife, and if she had a fault, I am confident that I should be the first to see it.  But, que voulez-vous? she has not yet given me the opportunity.

“Marriage is a lottery.  In a lottery, somebody must draw the prize; if I have drawn it, am I to be ashamed of my luck?  No; let me manfully confess my good fortune, and thank my star.

“I have snatched the time to write you these hurried lines, while the worshipped subject of them has been trying on some new—­but I forgot; I am writing to a bachelor.  I have still a few minutes; let me make use of them.

“My dear Mac, when I return to foggy London—­(I hear you have had terrible weather there)—­you will see little or nothing of me.  My Carrie allows me to smoke (she permits me everything), but I should be a mean brute if I took advantage of her boundless generosity.  I smoke one cigar per diem, and no more.  And as for wine—­the honey of the loved one’s lips is the true grape of the honeymoon.  I must tell you that Carrie and I have made a solemn compact.  Her head was nestled against my waistcoat as we made it.  We are not going to live for the world, like foolish people whom we know.  For society my little wife needs me; and I, happy man, shall be more than content for ever while the partner of my bosom deigns to solace me with her gentle voice.  She has friends without number who will mourn her loss to society.  Her dear friends the Barcaroles will be inconsolable; her sister Theodosia will break her heart.  Life has its trials, however, which must be bravely borne; and Carrie’s friends must be consoled when they learn that she is happy with the man of her choice.  In the same way, be comforted, my dear Mac (for I know how warmly you regard me), when I tell you that henceforth we shall meet only at rare intervals.  My life is bound up in that of the celestial being who is knitting in the window, not an arm’s length from me.