Confession - Page 83/274

With books and music, painting and flowers, we passed the happy

moments of the honeymoon. I yielded as little of myself and my mind

to my office and clients, in that period, as I possibly could. My

cottage was my paradise. My habits, as might be inferred from my

history, were singularly domestic. Doomed, as I had been, from my

earliest years, to know neither friends nor parents; isolated, in

my infancy, from all those tender ties which impress upon the heart,

for all succeeding years, tokens of the most endearing affection;

denied the smiles of those who yet filled my constant sight--my

life was a long yearning for things of love--for things to love!

While the struggle continued between Julia's parents and myself,

though confiding in her love, I had yet no confidence in my own

hope to realize and to secure it. Now that it was mine--mine, at

last--I grew uxorious in its contemplation. Like the miser, I had

my treasure at home, and I hastened home to survey it with precisely

the same doubts, and hopes, and fears, which the disease of avarice

prompts in the unhappy heart of its victim To this disease, in

chief, I have to attribute all my future sorrows; but the time

is not yet for that. It is my joys now that I have to contemplate

and describe. How I dwelt, and how I dreamed! how I seemed to tread

on air, in the unaccustomed fullness of my spirit! how my whole

soul, given up to the one pursuit, I fondly fancied had secured

its object! I fancied--nay, for the time, I was happy! Surely, I

was happy!