It is almost impossible that those whose lives are passed in
ministering to the mental cravings and the amusement of the infirm and
the unoccupied, should avoid talking too freely of others. However
amiable their intentions and their feelings may be, so many words
cannot be uttered without sometimes doing mischief, if it were only by
magnifying trifles into matters of importance.
CHAPTER VI.
When Love's afraid, do not that fear despise;
Flames tremble most, when they the highest rise.
_D'Avenant._
George Wells still took his Sunday walk with Susan; and Susan, having
once told him distinctly that she should never marry, and that she
gave him back his troth, having even alluded to the probability of his
marrying another woman, felt she had done her duty, and that they might
still be, and ever might remain, friends. But friendship between man
and woman seldom exists without an admixture of love, past, present,
or to come. The feeling that begins in friendship often leads on to
love; often, too often, love is indulged under the garb of friendship;
and sometimes, but more rarely, love leaves behind it a regard which
subsides into friendship. Such, as Susan flattered herself, was the
case with George; and she therefore hoped that she should always
experience from him the same kindness and the same attention. But it
was not friendship, it was still love, that George felt for Susan: and
it was a touching sight to mark the young man leading his once plighted
wife, the blind Susan, on her way from church; tenderly watching that
the merry urchins who were playing in the path did not run against her
in their sport, or carefully pushing aside with his foot any loose
stone which might cause her to stumble. He would often bring her a
nosegay too; and Susan might generally be seen with a bowpot placed
near her, containing the common flowers of the season, backed up with
southern-wood and marjoram enough to drown the scent of all the roses
and pinks of which the foreground was composed. George loved to see
the smile with which his present was greeted; and still looked with
admiration at the silken eye-lashes which shaded the eyes that could no
longer beam upon him.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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