Page:Confessions of a wife (IA confessionsofwif00adamiala).pdf/127
still in the hall, with quivering ears, music-smitten, as delicately organized dogs sometimes arc. The eternal bridegroom rings in my husband's singing—joyous, imperial, master of the present and dauntless of the future. Oh, I love thee, master of my heart and of my life!
I cannot stand this any longer. What's a headache? I think if I get into the warm red gown, and steal down very softly, and up behind him before he knows it, and just put my arms about his neck, with no sound at all, and lay my cheek to his (though the tears are on it still)—Oh, hark! How sure and glad he is!
····
Till the sun grows cold,
And the stars are old,
And the leaves of the Judgment Book unfold!
December the twelfth.
Dana was displeased with me about something (a little thing, too small to write) to-day, and went to his day's work without kissing me. It is the first time. I shut myself in here and cried half the morning. Job's head is quite a mop, for he tried to comfort me.
Awhile ago I went down and telephoned to