eeping. Before she
could finish, she broke into a passionate rush of tears, and would have
thrown herself at his feet; but he caught her, and she sunk down upon
his shoulder, and he stooped towards her as he might if he had loved
her. Then I knew how I loved him.

I had to bear up a little while, for they were in my house, and I must
bid them good-night, and talk idly, so that they should not suspect the
wound I had. But I must do something, or go mad; and so I went out to
the garden-wall, and struck my hand upon it until the blood ran. The
pain of that balanced the terrible pain within for a few moments, and I
went in to them calm and smiling. They were sitting on the sofa, he with
a perplexed, pale face, and she blushing and radiant. They started up
when they saw my hand bandaged, and she was full of sympathy for my
hurt. He said but little, though he looked fixedly at my face. I know I
must have looked strangely. When they were gone, I went into my chamber
and shut the door, with some such feeling as I should have closed the
entrance of a tomb behind me forever. I fought myself all that night. My
heart was hungry and cried out for food, and I would promise it none at
all. Is there anyone who thinks that youth has monopolized all the
passion of life, all the rapture, all the wild despair? Let them breast
the deep, strong current of middle life.

I never could quite recollect how that last month went away. I know that
I kept myself incessantly occupied, and that I saw them almost daily,
without departing from the tone of familiar friendship I had worn
throughout, although my heart was full of jealousy and a fast-growing
hatred that would not be quelled. Not for a thousand happy loves would I
have let them see my humiliation. I was even afraid that already he
might suspect it, for his manner was changed. Sometimes he was distant,
sometimes sad, and sometimes almost tenderer than a friend.

It got to be October, and I felt that I could not bear such a state of
things any longer, and questioned within myself whether I had better not
leave home for a while. If I had been alone, it would have been easy;
but my cousin Mary was still with me, and I could give no good reason
for such a step. Before I had settled upon anything, Lucy came to me in
great distress, with a confession that Mr. Ames was somehow turned
against her, and that she was almost heart-broken about it. If she lost
him, she must die; for she had so long look