'Why, yes, I think so. Hattersley will be too busy
billing and cooing with his bride to have much time to spare
for guns and dogs at present,' he replied. And that reminds
me, that I have had several letters from Milicent since her
marriage, and that she either is, or pretends to be, quite
reconciled to her lot. She professes to have discovered
numberless virtues and perfections in her husband, some of
which, I fear, less partial eyes would fail to distinguish, though
they sought them carefully with tears; and now that she
is accustomed to his loud voice, and abrupt, uncourteous
manners, she affirms she finds no difficulty in loving him as
a wife should do, and begs I will burn that letter wherein
she spoke so unadvisedly against him. So that I trust she
may yet be happy; but, if she is, it will be entirely the
reward of her own goodness of heart; for had she chosen to
consider herself the victim of fate, or of her mother's worldly
wisdom, she might have been thoroughly miserable; and if,
for duty's sake, she had not made every effort to love her
husband, she would, doubtless, have hated him to the end of
her days.

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