enthusiastic as myself–with a sweetness of temper which I have never seen raffled, except by some act of injustice or cruelty.
But do not flatter yourself, Ella, that life glided on with me like the pages of a romance; I was obliged to lay aside a great many silly theories which I had indulged in, and come to plain reality much oftener than suited my inclination. A _perfect_ person is not to be found upon earth; when disposed to murmur at not meeting with the sacrifices you expect, ask yourself if you would be willing to make these sacrifices for another–and then be not surprised that others are not more free from the dross of self-consideration than you are. Also, do not suppose that it was my hair-brained performance at our first meeting which attracted my husband’s affections; no, often has the color mounted to my face at his reference to that scene, and his own impressions then.
“You reminded me, Amy,” he would say, laughing, “of some reckless sprite from the kingdom of misrule, who had flown into the scene, determined to make all the trouble she could. It was very chivalrous of you, to be sure, and I ought to be very grateful–but I must own that I felt exceedingly provoked at being obliged to risk my life by springing out to rescue you from the horses’ hoofs. But never mind, _chere amie_” he would add as he saw the hot tears starting to my eyes, while face, neck, and brow, were suffused with the hue of mortification, “there was an after-page in the sick-room, when I beheld, with surprise, my crazy heroine transformed into the demure, and gentle nurse, and learned to distinguish a soft-toned voice, which always lingered in my ears like pleasant music; so that after all, I am really indebted to you, Amy, for making me break my leg–for, if you had not done so, I am afraid I never should have discovered my jewel of a wife.”
So much for my romance; but the scene generally ended with the kiss of reconciliation, and I, too, learned to smile at my act of girlish folly.
“My tale is told; my parents have long slept beside each other, where the long grass waves over them–my elder brothers are still living–my brother Henry is a beloved and venerated clergyman in one of our large cities–while the wild, hair-brained Fred became a talented lawyer in the same place where he is universally respected. The rest of my brothers are all dead; and we three only survive out of a family of nine. Perhaps at some future time I may give you an account of my residence in England; but I must now conclude my adventures for the present.”
Here ended my grandmother’s history, which had afforded us many evenings of amusement. We were both surprised and pleased at her frankness in speaking of her faults and mischievous acts; and could indeed hardly comprehend that the very sensible, dignified lady before us had ever been such an odd, harum-scarum sort of character–yet so it was, and she had kindly related her own experience for our improvement. The last chapter was intended more especially for my own particular edification; but we all laughed heartily at my grandmother’s ideas of signalizing herself. That room is to us a charmed spot; and we look forward most anxiously to the time when she is to begin an account of her life in England.
THE END