"For God's sake!" cried he, "if you
have any pity on me don't mention my wife; it is the thought of
her that drives me almost to madness!"
"And why not?" said I. "She must know it sooner or later: you
cannot keep it long from her, and the intelligence may break upon
her in a more startling manner than if imparted by yourself; for
the accents of those we love soften the harshest tidings.
Besides, you are depriving yourself of the comforts of her
sympathy; and not merely that, but also endangering the only bond
that can keep hearts together--an unreserved community of thought
and feeling. She will soon perceive that something is secretly
preying upon your mind; and true love will not brook reserve; it
feels undervalued and outraged, when even the sorrows of those it
loves are concealed from it."
"Oh, but my friend! to think what a blow I am to give to all her
future prospects,--how I am to strike her very soul to the earth,
by telling her that her husband is a beggar! that she is to
forego all the elegancies of life--all the pleasures of
society--to shrink with me into indigence and obscurity! To tell
her that I have dragged her down from the sphere in which she
might have continued to move in constant brightness--the light of
every eye--the admiration of every heart!--How can she bear
poverty? She has been brought up in all the refinements of
opulence.
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