No heavenly happiness can be greater than that which entered my
grateful heart at that moment. All sense of sight and touch and
hearing--all heart and soul and mind--were merged in the exquisite
belief that inwrapped me then--in the faith that constituted itself a
part of me, inseparable, indissoluble, that is mine through all
time--that she and I were one for ever and ever!
She sat with me until my landlady warned her that it was time to go.
When she was gone, I learned that not a day had passed since my
sickness that she had not come to see me.
"Alone?" I asked.
"Yes, alone," my landlady said, adding that she had not spoken to any
one of the young lady's visits, as they might have been misconstrued.
The significant tone in which she said this caused me to reflect that
Alice's visits, if discovered, would expose her to the world's
censure, and I begged my landlady to preserve silence upon the
subject.
I will not linger upon this part of my story. Alice's visits were
discovered; and one day, when I was nearly well, and when I was
sitting by the window waiting for her beloved presence, I received a
visit from her aunt.
I saw the unpleasant news in her face directly she entered the room.
She commenced by saying she was glad to see I was nearly well, and
that she trusted I would not take advantage of a young girl's
indiscretion.
"It was by the merest accident I discovered that my niece has been in
the habit of coming to see you every day," said the old lady; "and she
has been very rash and indiscreet; you must see that, I'm sure."
I did not see it, and I told her so.
"Nonsense!" exclaimed the old lady; "you are a man, and you know the
ways of the world and its judgment. As a man of honor, you must not
encourage my niece in her folly."
"Is it a folly to love?" I asked.
But the old lady would not listen to argument, and she demanded my
promise that I would not see my darling again.
Firmly I refused to give it, unless Alice asked me to do so. We were
pledged to each other, I said, and it was out of my power to break the
engagement, unless; Alice wished it broken.
The old lady was terrified by my firmness; and when she asked me what
I meant to do, and I told her that I meant to marry her niece, she
exclaimed aghast,--
"Marry her! and you an actor!"
"Yes; and I an actor," I answered proudly.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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