"Believe! What is the matter? Tell me what you feel."

"I could not，sir: no words could tell you what I feel. I wish this present hour would never end: who knows with what fate the next day may e charged?"

"This is hypochondria，Jane. You have been over-excited，or over-fatigued."

"Do you，sir，feel calm and happy?"

"Calm?- no: but happy- to the heart"s core."

I looked up at him to read the signs of bliss in his face: it was ardent and flushed.

"Give me your confidence，Jane," he said: "relieve your mind of any weight that oppresses it，by imparting it to me. What do you fear?- that I shall not prove a good husband?"

"It is the idea farthest from my thoughts."

"Are you apprehensive of the new sphere you are about to enter?- of the new life into which you are passing?"

"No."

"You puzzle me，Jane: your look and tone of sorrowful audacity perplex and pain me. I want an explanation."

"Then，sir，listen. You were from home last night?"

"I was: I know that; and you hinted a while ago at something which had happened in my absence:- nothing，probably，of consequence; but，in short，it has disturbed you. Let me hear it. Mrs. Fairfax has said something，perhaps? or you have overheard the servants talk?- your sensitive self-respect has been wounded?"

"No，sir." It struck twelve- I waited till the timepiece had concluded its silver chime，and the clock its hoarse，vibrating stroke，and then I proceeded.

"All day yesterday I was very busy，and very happy in my ceaseless bustle; for I am not，as you seem to think，troubled by any haunting fears about the new sphere，et cetera: I think it a glorious thing to have the hope of living with you，because I love you. No，sir，don"t caress me now- let me talk undisturbed.

Yesterday I trusted well in providence，and believed that events were working together for your good and mine: it was a fine day，if you recollect- the calmness of the air and sky forbade apprehensions respecting your safety or fort on your journey. I walked a little while on the pavement after tea，thinking of you; and I beheld you in imagination so near me，I scarcely missed your actual presence. I thought of the life that lay before me- your life，sir- an existence more expansive and stirring than my own: as much more so as the depths of the sea to which the brook runs are than the shallows of its own strait channel. I wondered why moralists call this world a dreary wilderness: for me it blossomed like a rose. Just at sunset，the air turned cold and the sky cloudy: I went in，Sophie called me upstairs to look at my wedding-dress，which they had just brought; and under it in the box I found your present- the veil which，in your princely extravagance，you sent for from London: resolved，I suppose，since I would not have jewels，to cheat me into accepting something as costly.