ed nothing, and it was well for the peace of the family
that he did not. It may have been cowardice in Ralph that he never
mentioned Bertha's name to his family or to his aristocratic
acquaintances; for, to be candid, he himself felt ashamed of the power
she exerted over him, and by turns pitied and ridiculed himself for
pursuing so inglorious a conquest. Nevertheless it wounded his egotism
that she never showed any surprise at seeing him, that she received him
with a certain frank unceremoniousness, which, however, was very
becoming to her; that she invariably went on with her work heedless of
his presence, and in everything treated him as if she had been his
equal. She persisted in talking with him in a half sisterly fashion
about his studies and his future career, warned him with great
solicitude against some of his reprobate friends, of whose merry
adventures he had told her; and if he ventured to compliment her on her
beauty or her accomplishments, she would look up gravely from her
sewing, or answer him in a way which seemed to banish the idea of
love-making into the land of the impossible. He was constantly
tormented by the suspicion that she secretly disapproved of him, and
that from a mere moral interest in his welfare she was conscientiously
laboring to make him a better man. Day after day he parted from her
feeling humiliated, faint-hearted, and secretly indignant both at
himself and her, and day after day he returned only to renew the same
experience. At last it became too intolerable, he could endure it no
longer. Let it make or break, certainty, at all risks, was at least
preferable to this sickening suspense. That he loved her, he could no
longer doubt; let his parents foam and fret as much as they pleased;
for once he was going to stand on his own legs. And in the end, he
thought, they would have to yield, for they had no son but him.
Bertha was going to return to her home on the sea-coast in a week.
Ralph stood in the little low-ceiled parlor, as she imagined, to bid
her good-by. They had been speaking of her father, her brothers, and
the farm, and she had expressed the wish that if he ever should come to
that part of the country he might pay them a visit. Her words had
kindled a vague hope in his breast, but in their very frankness and
friendly regard there was something which slew the hope they had
begotten. He held her hand in his, and her large confiding eyes shone
with an emotion which was beautif
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