You would be happy
then, Nanina; but would he? He has no father or mother to control
him, it is true; but he has friends--many friends and intimates
in his own rank--proud, heartless people, who know nothing of
your worth and goodness; who, hearing of your low birth, would
look on you, and on your husband too, my child, with contempt. He
has not your patience and fortitude. Think how bitter it would be
for him to bear that contempt--to see you shunned by proud women,
and carelessly pitied or patronized by insolent men. Yet all
this, and more, he would have to endure, or else to quit the
world he has lived in from his boyhood--the world he was born to
live in. You love him, I know--"
Nanina's tears burst out afresh. "Oh, how dearly--how dearly!"
she murmured.
"Yes, you love him dearly," continued the priest; "but would all
your love compensate him for everything else that he must lose?
It might, at first; but there would come a time when the world
would assert its influence over him again; when he would feel a
want which you could not supply--a weariness which you could not
solace. Think of his life then, and of yours. Think of the first
day when the first secret doubt whether he had done rightly in
marrying you would steal into his mind. We are not masters of all
our impulses. The lightest spirits have their moments of
irresistible depression; the bravest hearts are not always
superior to doubt.
Pages:
405
406
407
408
409
410
411
412
413
414
415
416
417
418
419
420
421
422
423
424
425
426
427
428
429