The Catholic World, Vol. 20, October 1874‐March 1875Various
Religion
The Catholic World, Vol. 20, October 1874‐March 1875
Various
Catholic Church -- Periodicals
As a general thing, with all due deference to poetic opinion, “love is
(_not_) loveliest when embalmed in tears.” But Mrs. Grey was an exception
to many rules. Her emotion was usually of the April‐shower sort, gentle,
refreshing, even beautifying. Very little she knew of the storm of
suffering which desolates the heart, and whose ravages leave a lasting
impression upon the features. Such emotions also sometimes, but rarely,
leave a beauty behind them; but it is a beauty not of this world, the
beauty of holiness; not of Mrs. Grey’s kind, for it never would have
touched Mr. Sinclair as hers did now.
“My dear Mrs. Grey,” he said, taking her hand in both his, “how grieved I
am to see you showing so plainly the results of care and watching!
Privileged as he must be who is the recipient of such angelic
ministrations, I must yet protest—as a friend, I trust I have a right to
do so—against such over‐exertion on your part. You will be ill yourself;
and then who or what will console me?”
Mr. Sinclair knew this was a fiction. He knew well enough that Mrs. Grey
had never looked fresher or prettier in her life. But the _rôle_ he had
assigned to himself was the dangerously tender one of sympathy; and where
a sufficient occasion for displaying his part was not supplied, he must
needs invent one.
Clara was not altogether deceived, for, as she put her lace‐bordered
handkerchief to her eyes, from which the tears began again to flow, she
replied:
“You are mistaken, Mr. Sinclair. I am quite well, and not at all fatigued;
while dear Assunta is thin and pale, and thoroughly worn out with all she
has done. I can never be grateful enough to her.”
Had the lady raised her eyes, she might have been astonished at the
expression of contempt which curled Mr. Sinclair’s somewhat hard mouth, as
he rejoined:
“Yes; I quite understand Miss Howard’s _motive_ in her devotion to her
guardian, and it is not strange that she should be pale. How do you
suppose I should look and feel if the dearest friend I have in the world
were at this moment lying in her brother’s place?”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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