The
accomplishments and graces of the world must needs take hold upon her
fancy. And a fear creeps over you that you dare not whisper,--that those
graces may cast into the shade your own yearning and silent tenderness.
But this is a selfish fear, that you think you have no right to cherish.
She takes pleasure in the society of Dalton,--what right have you to say
her--nay? His character indeed is not altogether such as you could wish;
but will it not be selfish to tell her even this? Will it not be even
worse, and show taint of a lurking suspicion, which you know would wound
her grievously? You struggle with your distrust by meeting him more
kindly than ever; yet at times there will steal over you a sadness,
which that dear Madge detects, and sorrowing in her turn, tries to draw
away from you by the touching kindness of sympathy. Her look and manner
kill all your doubt; and you show that it is gone, and piously conceal
the cause by welcoming in gayer tones than ever the man who has fostered
it by his presence.
Business calls you away to a great distance from home: it is the first
long parting of your real manhood. And can suspicion, or a fear, lurk
amid those tearful embraces? Not one,--thank God,--not one!
Your letters, frequent and earnest, bespeak your increased devotion; and
the embraces you bid her give to the sweet ones of your little flock,
tell of the calmness and sufficiency of your love.
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