My tale draws to its close: one word respecting my experience of
married life, and one brief glance at the fortunes of those whose
names have most frequently recurred in this narrative, and I have
done.
I have now been married ten years. I know what it is to live
entirely for and with what I love best on earth. I hold myself
supremely blest -- blest beyond what language can express; because
I am my husband's life as fully is he is mine. No woman was ever
nearer to her mate than I am: ever more absolutely bone of his
bone and flesh of his flesh. I know no weariness of my Edward's
society: he knows none of mine, any more than we each do of the
pulsation of the heart that beats in our separate bosoms; consequently,
we are ever together. To be together is for us to be at once as
free as in solitude, as gay as in company. We talk, I believe,
all day long: to talk to each other is but a more animated and an
audible thinking. All my confidence is bestowed on him, all his
confidence is devoted to me; we are precisely suited in character
-- perfect concord is the result.
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