ent on well as to the law
business; and as it approached to a conclusion, I wrote to my good
friend P---- to go to M----, who had married her sister, and ask him if
it would be worth my while to make her a formal offer, as soon as I was
free, as, with the least encouragement, I was ready to throw myself at
her feet; and to know, in case of refusal, whether I might go back there
and be treated as an old friend. Not a word of answer could be got from
her on either point, notwithstanding every importunity and intreaty; but
it was the opinion of M---- that I might go and try my fortune. I did
so with joy, with something like confidence. I thought her giving no
positive answer implied a chance, at least, of the reversion of her
favour, in case I behaved well. All was false, hollow, insidious. The
first night after I got home, I slept on down. In Scotland, the flint
had been my pillow. But now I slept under the same roof with her. What
softness, what balmy repose in the very thought! I saw her that same
day and shook hands with her, and told her how glad I was to see her;
and she was kind and comfortable, though still cold and distant. Her
manner was altered from what it was the last time. She still absented
herself from the room, but was mild and affable when she did come. She
was pale, dejected, evidently uneasy about something, and had been ill.
I thought it was perhaps her reluctance to yield to my wishes, her pity
for what I suffered; and that in the struggle between both, she did not
know what to do. How I worshipped her at these moments! We had a long
interview the third day, and I thought all was doing well. I found her
sitting at work in the window-seat of the front parlour; and on my
asking if I might come in, she made no objection. I sat down by her;
she let me take her hand; I talked to her of indifferent things, and of
old times. I asked her if she would put some new frills on my
shirts?---"With the greatest pleasure." If she could get THE LITTLE
IMAGE mended? "It was broken in three pieces, and the sword was gone,
but she would try." I then asked her to make up a plaid silk which I
had given her in the winter, and which she said would make a pretty
summer gown. I so longed to see her in it!--"She had little time to
spare, but perhaps might!" Think what I felt, talking peaceably,
kindly, tenderly with my love,--not passionately, not violently. I
tried to take pattern by her patient meekness,