`No, it is not: I wish her to be happy; but I don't wish her to forget me altogether. She knows it is impossible that I should forget her; and she is right to wish me not to remember her too well. I should not desire her to regret me too deeply; but I can scarcely imagine she will make herself very unhappy about me, because I know I am not worthy of it, except in my appreciation of her.'
`You are neither of you worthy of a broken heart,--nor of all the sighs, and tears, and sorrowful thoughts that have been, and I fear will be wasted upon you both; but at present, each has a more exalted opinion of the other than, I fear, he or she deserves; and my sister's feelings are naturally full as keen as yours, and I believe more constant; but she has the good sense and fortitude to strive against them in this particular; and I trust she will not rest till she has entirely weaned her thoughts--' he hesitated.
`From me,' said I.
`And I wish you would make the like exertions,' continued he.
`Did she tell you that that was her intention?'
`No; the question was not broached between us: there was no necessity for it, for I had no doubt that such was her determination.
`To forget me?'
`Yes Markham! Why not?'
`Oh! well,' was my only audible reply; but I internally answered,--`No, Lawrence, you're wrong there, she is not determined to forget me.
It would be wrong to forget one so deeply and fondly devoted to her, who can so thoroughly appreciate her excellencies and sympathize with all her thoughts as I can do, and it would be wrong in me to forget so excellent and divine a piece of God's creation as she, when I have once so truly loved and known her.' But I said no more to him on that subject.
I instantly started a new topic of conversation, and soon took leave of my. companion, with a feeling of less cordiality towards him than usual.
Perhaps I had no right to be annoyed at him, but I was so nevertheless.
In little more than a week after this, I met him returning from a visit to the Wilsons; and I now resolved to do him a good turn, though at the expense of his feelings, and, perhaps, at the risk of incurring that displeasure which is so commonly the reward of those who give disagreeable information or tender their advice unasked. In this, believe me, I was actuated by no motives of revenge for the occasional annoyances I had lately sustained from him,--nor yet by any feeling of malevolent enmity towards Miss Wilson, but purely by the fact that I could not endure that such a woman should be Mrs. Huntingdon's sister, and that, as well for his own sake as for hers, I could not bear to think of his being deceived into a union with one so unworthy of him, and so utterly unfitted to be the partner of his quiet home, and the companion of his life. He had had uncomfortable suspicions on that head himself, I imagined, but such was his inexperience, and such were the lady's powers of attraction and her skill in bringing them to bear upon his young imagination, that they had not disturbed him long, and I believe the only effectual cause of the vacillating indecision that had preserved him hitherto from making an actual declaration of love, was the consideration of her connections, and especially of her mother, whom he could not abide. Had they lived at a distance, he might have surmounted the objection, but within two or three miles of Woodford, it was really no light matter.
`You've been to call on the Wilsons, Lawrence,' said I as I walked beside his pony.
`Yes,' replied he, slightly averting his face: `I thought it but civil to take the first opportunity of returning their kind attentions, since they have been so very particular and constant in their enquiries, throughout the whole course of my illness.'
`It's all Miss Wilson's doing.'
`And if it is,' returned he, with a very perceptible blush, `is that any reason why I should not make a suitable acknowledgment?'
`It is a reason why you should not make the acknowledgment she looks for.'
`Let us drop that subject if you please,' said he in evident displeasure.
