FullReads

May 6.–I am afraid I vexed William last night, and only wish I could unsay two or three things that I said about the making of this passage. I begin to think I was foolish to get such a fancy into my head. After tea, just as he was going to open out his book, I ventured to say, “I wish you would talk to-night, dear William, instead of read, for I have so little of your company.” In a minute he had shut his book, and drawn his chair up to mine, and said so good-naturedly, “Well, little Fanny, and what shall we talk about?” that I felt quite afraid of beginning upon the subject I had in my mind. By-and-by, however, I broached it, and said I really had set my heart upon having our room altered like Mrs. Smith’s, and that I was sure it would be done for very little expense, even supposing our landlord would not do it for us. William said he could not think of even asking him to do it, after having put the house into such complete repair when we came here; and he added, that he had fancied that I was pleased with the place, and thought it comfortable. “So I was, dear William,” said I; “but I had no idea till I tried, how uncomfortable it is to sit in a room with a front door opening into it in this way–it is like sitting in the street.” William looked so vexed as I said this, I did not speak for some time. Then all at once he said, “Well, Fanny, as I wish you to be happy and comfortable, I suppose you must have your way in this matter. I cannot exactly say that I cannot afford it, because you know I do not spend all my salary upon housekeeping; but there were some books that I thought of buying, that, after all, I can wait for very well:–So if you like to speak to John Wilson, I dare say he would do the job as cheaply as any one–he can make an estimate of what it would cost, and let me know.” I thanked William, most heartily, for his consent, and I am sure that when the passage is once made, he will be as pleased as any one with the improvement. And yet I do not feel quite satisfied at the idea of his going without his books, and only wish he had the money for them as well.

May 7.–Happening to see John Wilson passing down the lane on the way to his work, I called him in to consult him about putting up the partition. He made a very careful measurement, and then after calculating wood-work, and paint, and time, he said he thought he could do it for two pounds ten. I thought it would not have been more than two pounds at most; but i had forgotten about the inner door, with its handle and hinges, etc. It seems a great deal of money, I must say. William’s books I know would only have cost thirty shillings, for I have a list of them that he made one evening.

May 8.–Somehow or other I could hardly make up my mind after all, last night, to tell William about John Wilson’s estimate; but when I did get it said, he made me feel quite at ease by the open way in which he talked about it with me, and planned it all just as if he thought it as desirable as I do. This is particularly kind of him, because I know he thinks all the time that we could do very well without it. Before we went to bed, too, he took out the little purse in which he keeps his savings (the very purse I made him before we married), and taking out the £2 10s., told me to keep the money myself ready to pay John Wilson, as he said he might be spending it perhaps if it was not out of his way. “You know,” said he, laughing, “I pass the book-shop every evening on my way home, and I cannot answer for myself.” I could not help feeling very much this kindness of William’s in giving up his wishes so readily to mine in the matter, and I told him so–and really it quite kept me awake half the night thinking about it. I think the very sight of that purse brought back to my remembrance how I used to say to myself that when once I was William’s wife I would try so hard to make him happy, and sacrifice all my wishes to his. I began to feel that after all it would not make me half as happy to have my own way as for him to be pleased with me; and in spite of his trying not to let me see it, I cannot help fancying that he was a little hurt at my being discontented with my little home, that had given me such satisfaction at first and in which we have been so happy. I begin to think that I was foolish in being persuaded by Mrs. Smith that my snug little house wanted anything to complete my happiness. Happiness! How ridiculous it seems to write that word in connexion with such a trifle as this. As if William and I were not too happy to care about whether our house is as good as our neighbour’s! I am determined after all to give up this affair of the passage altogether. I have half a mind–nay, I am quite, resolved, to spend the money instead upon those books for William. How surprised he will be!

Afternoon of the same day.–After coming to the decision I did this morning, I put on my things, and set off into the town. I don’t think I ever walked faster than I did to that bookseller’s shop. Luckily they had all the books I wanted, or if they are not quite right William has only to change them afterwards. They did not cost as much as I had calculated, too, and with the discount that they gave me I had enough left for the little hanging bookshelves that William took such a fancy to at the cabinet-maker’s the other day. I got them all home this afternoon–books as well as shelves–and in less than an hour after their arrival, the nail was knocked into the wall opposite the fire-place; the shelves hung, and all the books arranged upon them. How nice they look, and how pleased will dear William be when he returns! I declare I would not exchange the happiness I now feel in giving him pleasure for the finest house, with the grandest entrance to it too, that ever was built. Six o’clock: and William will be home at seven!