He became every
day more hopelessly her slave, yet every day insisting more strongly to
himself that he felt nothing more than warm friend. Once for a moment
he tried to believe that his feeling was merely a desire for her
spiritual good, that his attitude was that which it was proper for a
priest to feel toward a beautiful and frivolous worldling; but the
pretense was too ghastly, and he abandoned it with a shudder of
disgust. He had moments, too, when he said to himself frankly, in
defiance or in sorrow as the mood might be, that he loved her; but for
the most part he tried to keep the assumption of simple friendship
between him and bitter thought.
He found great pleasure in Mrs. Morison. She was to him a revelation of
possibilities of which he had never dreamed. It was a continual
surprise to him to find himself so impressed by the wit, the wisdom,
and the sanity of this fine old lady. He not only felt himself an
ignorant and inexperienced boy beside her, but found himself shrinking
from comparing with her the men whom he had followed as leaders. The
ease of her manner, the completeness of her self-poise, her frank
simplicity, high-bred and winning, delighted him, while the extent of
her mental resources filled him with amazement.
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