We had a pretty ride home. My mind was disburthened of its
various subjects of care which I had had to communicate to Mr.
Thorold; and although I had not been able entirely to prevail
with him, yet I had done all I could, and my conscience was
clear. I let myself enjoy, and the ride was good. Mr. Thorold
said we must have another; but I did not believe that
feasible.
However, it fell out so. Dr. Sandford lingered on in the same
disabled state; his sister-in-law was devoted to her
attendance on him; I was left to myself. And it did come to
pass, that not only Mr. Thorold and I had walks continually
together; but also we had one more good ride. I did not try
moving him again on the point of my father and mother. I had
read my man and knew that I could not. And I suppose I liked
him the better for it. Weakness is the last thing, I think,
that a woman forgives in men, who ought to be strong.
Christian was not weak; all the more he was gentle and tender
and thoughtful for those who were. Certainly for me. Those
days, those walks, - what music of thought and manner there
was in them! The sort of protecting care and affection I had
from him then, I never had from any other at any time. Care
that seemed to, make my life his own; affection that made it
something much before his own; but all this told, not in
words, which could not have been, but in indescribable little
things of manner and tone; graces too fine to count and
measure. Once I had fancied I ought to put more reserve into
my manner, or manage more distance in his; that thought fled
from me after the first afternoon's ride and never came back.
I did not take care for myself; he took care for me. The
affection that held me as a part of himself, held me also as a
delicate charge more precious than himself; and while he
protected me as one who had a right to do it, he guarded me
also as one whose own rights were more valuable than his. He
never flattered, nor praised, nor complimented me; or with
rare exceptions; but he showed me that he lived for me, and
sometimes that he knew I lived for him.
What days and walks! The extreme and impending gravity of the
time and the interests at work, lent only a keen and keener
perception of their preciousness and sweetness. Any day our
opportunities might suddenly come to an end; every day they
were welcomed as a special fresh gift. Every evening, as soon
as Mr. Thorold's engagements allowed it, he met me on the
avenue, and we walked until the evening was as far spent as we
durst spend it so. I basked in a sunshine of care and
affection which surrounded me, which watched me, which catered
to my pleasure, and knew my thoughts before they were spoken.
We were both grown suddenly older than our years, Mr. Thorold
and I; the coming changes and chances in our lives brought us
to life's reality at once.