You have been
kind to us, dear Miss Henley, as you are kind to all;
but to me your sympathy has been trebly dear, for
it has brought with it a consolation and pleasure
that you but little imagine."
Miss Henley raised her tearful eyes from the floor to
his wan features, that now appeared illumined with
more than human fires, and her pale lips quivered,
but her voice was inaudible.
"Yes, Charlotte, I may now speak without injustice,
or the fear of being selfish: I have long loved you--
how tenderly, how purely, none can ever know; but
could I, with a certainty of my fate before my eyes,
with the knowledge that my days were numbered,
and that the sun of my life could never reach its
meridian, woo you to my love, to make you
miserable! No, dearest! your gentle heart will
mourn the brother and the friend too much for its
own peace; it needed not the sting of a stronger
grief."
"George, George," sobbed the convulsed girl, "think
not of me; speak not of me--if it can cheer you at
such a moment to know how much you are valued
by me, no cold reserve shall be found on my part."
The young man started, and fastened his eyes on
her face with an indefinable look of delight mingled
with sorrow.
"Charlotte!" he exclaimed, "do I hear aright? am I
so miserable! am I so happy! repeat those words--
quick--my eyes grow dim--my senses deceive me."
"Live, George Morton," said Charlotte firmly: "you
are better--your whole face bespeaks it; and if the
tender care of an affectionate wife can preserve
your health, you shall long live a blessing to all
who love you.
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