"That was a happy time;"--very great emphasis on the word happy.
"Very happy;"--no emphasis anywhere.
"I sometimes wish I might live it over again."
"Yes?"--inquiringly.
"There are, after all, no pleasures in the world like those."
"No?"--inquiringly again.
You thought you had learned to have language at command; you never
thought, after so many years' schooling of the world, that your pliant
tongue would play you truant. Yet now you are silent.
The moon steals silvery into the light flakes of cloud, and the air is
soft as May. The cottage is in sight. Again you risk utterance:--
"You must live very happily here."
"I have very kind friends;"--the very is emphasized.
"I am sure Nelly loves you very much."
"Oh, I believe it!"--with great earnestness.
You are at the cottage-door.--
"Good night, Maggie;"--very feelingly.
"Good night, Clarence;"--very kindly; and she draws her hand coyly, and
half tremulously, from your somewhat fevered grasp.
You stroll away dreamily, watching the moon,--running over your
fragmentary life,--half moody, half pleased, half hopeful.
You come back stealthily, and with a heart throbbing with a certain wild
sense of shame, to watch the light gleaming in the cottage.
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