I know not how it is, but I seem misplaced in
life. My existence is a long blunder.'
'Too late to change, dearest Arundel! Oh! thank you for those words. Can
it, can it ever be too late to acknowledge error? Particularly if, by
that very acknowledgment, we not only secure our own happiness, but that
of those we love and those who love us?'
'Dear May! when I talk with you, I talk with my good genius; but I am
in closer and more constant converse with another mind, and of that I am
the slave. It is my own. I will not conceal from you, from whom I have
concealed nothing, that doubts and dark misgivings of the truth and
wisdom of my past feelings and my past career will ever and anon flit
across my fancy, and obtrude themselves upon my consciousness. Your
father--yes! I feel that I have not been to him what nature intended,
and what he deserved.'
'O Arundel!' she said, with streaming eyes, 'he loves you like a son.
Yet, yet be one!'
He seated himself on the sofa by her side, and took her small hand and
bathed it with his kisses.
'My sweet and faithful friend, my very sister! I am overpowered with
feelings to which I have hitherto been a stranger.
Pages:
312
313
314
315
316
317
318
319
320
321
322
323
324
325
326
327
328
329
330
331
332
333
334
335
336