It is idyllic--that is all I
can say.
My proposal of marriage was made to Elma a very few days after she wrote
down her startling and romantic story, and a year ago at a little
village church in Hertfordshire we became man and wife, there being
present at our wedding Madame Heath, my bride's mother, to whom, by my
exertions in official quarters in Petersburg, the Czar's clemency was
extended, and she was released from that far-off Arctic prison to which
she had been sent with such cruel injustice.
Two of the greatest London specialists have continually treated my dear
wife, and under them she has already recovered her speech--so far,
indeed, that she can now whisper in a low, soft voice. But they tell me
they are hopeful that ere long her voice will become stronger, and
speech practically restored. Already, too, she can begin to hear.
After all the storms and perils of the past, our lives are now indeed
full of a calm, sweet peace. In our own comfortable little house, with
its trellised porch covered with roses and honeysuckle, that faces the
blue Channel at St.
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