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“Well, Ruth, who'd have thought of seeing you again so soon !” exclaimed Jerry, as he opened it to her.
“Why, you see, Jerry, second thoughts are best; and I have come to the conclusion that I wo’n't have any thing to do with your horse: I guess there are enough others as good as he any day.”
“So, Miss Amy wo’n't take him," replied Jerry; “I can tell her that she'll not get many such horses as Robinette for love or money."
Why, what had Miss Amy to do with it? I tell you, Jerry, that it is I, don't want the horse. I went all on my own hook; but as for your thinking Robinette is such a wonder, you know, Jerry, that you always think your crows
“But I can tell you, Ruth, that I don't half like being served so by you; you make me look very cheap to Mr. Selmar. I have just told him that I'd e'en aʼmost sold Robinette."
“E'en aʼmost and very nigh, save many a lie, Jerry. I don't want the horse, and that's the long and the short on't. Mr. Selmar is not at bome, is he?"
“ Yes he is,” said Mr. Selmar, who happened just then to be passing through the hall, and recognized her voice. Ruth brushed by Jerry, and greeted him with a most vehement shake of the hand.
“How are you, Ruth ? and how is Miss Amy?” he said, as he returned it with equal cordiality.
“None the better for you, Mr. Edward; why have you not been to see for yourself how she is ?
“You must have heard, Ruth, of my misfortunes ; I have been too busy to visit.”
“I should think you might have found a few minutes for old friends."
“You know, Ruth, that there is no place where I love so well to be as at your house ; but I have not been good company for any body.”
“Speak well, but do better. It's not doing as you would be done by, to stay away from old friends when you are in trouble. Stars shine in the night, Mr. Edward.”
“ Very true, Ruth; but tell me something of Miss Amy,- is she well ?"
"Why, well enough, only rather dumpish for her. But did you not send a refusal to her party? I shouldn't wonder if she was affronted; for when I said something to her about buying your horse, which Jerry recommended, why, she looked as if I'd advised her to buy a hornet's nest. And I know she'd be angry with me if she knew I had told you of this; but, somehow or other, I could not help it now, Mr. Edward."
“ Thank you! thank you, Ruth! now is the time to find out one's true friends."
“ Ruth is right,” said Edward to himself, after she left him. “It is not doing
“It is not doing as I would be done by. I have not acted with that simplehearted trust which such a noble-minded being as Amy ought to inspire. Shall I suspect her of what I should despise myself for? I have not lost any thing in my own eyes, why should I in hers? -But am I certain that she loves me ? We have exchanged no vows, we have never uttered the word; but have we not understood each other? When together we drank in the sublime glories of Niagara, and felt that its everlasting flow was but a faint image of our own souls, that could be satisfied only with the Infinite; then did we not know that we loved each other? When our hearts have glowed with rapture at the thought of relieving the oppressed, and with indignation against tyranny; then did not our souls grow into each other's likeness?
And is not this love? holy love! and ought it not to cast out fear? What has
SKETCHES OF MARRIED LIFE.
kept me from her at this time? pitiful pride, lowborn fear. I will go to her; I must see Amy; but I must not ask her to marry a beggar. Her father! how I dread to see him! I am nothing now in his eyes; I could despise him, if he were not her father.”
“My affections Are then most humble ; I have no ambition To see a goodlier man.”
The next morning Edward called at Mr. Weston's. He found Amy at home, and alone.
“Edward! Mr. Selmar! I am very glad to see you; why have you staid away so long ?”
“Surely, Amy, you know what has occupied me; I have now to learn the cold virtues of
prudence and self-denial ; and my first lesson, perhaps, ought to be to forego the pleasure of your society."
Edward looked embarrassed, agitated, and unhappy, as he said this.
“Would you,” replied Amy, “resign your friends because you have lost your money?"
“A beggar must not expect to have friends. I have been a spoiled child: they tell me that I have now to learn what it is to be a poor man; but I did not intend to speak of myself, or my affairs to you."