He heard of envy,
jealousy, scandal, untruth, until he wondered if all women were
alike.
He himself was of a singularly truthful, honorable nature--all
deceit, all false appearances were hateful to him. He had formed
to himself an ideal of a wife, and he resolved to live and die
unmarried unless he could find some one to realize it.
Lillian Earle did. He watched her keenly; she was truthful and
open as the day. He never heard a false word from her not even
one of the trifling excuses that pass current in society for
truth. He said to himself, if any one was all but perfect,
surely she was. To use his own expression, he let his heart's
desire rest in her; all he had ever hoped for or dreamed of was
centered in her. He set to work deliberately and with all the
ardor of his impetuous nature to win her love.
At first she did not understand him; then by degrees he watched
the pure young heart awaken to consciousness. It was as pretty a
development of love as ever was witnessed. At the sound of his
footsteps or his voice the faint color flushed into her face,
light came into her eyes; and when he stood by her side, bending
his handsome head to read her secret, she would speak a word or
two, and then hurry away from him.
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