Well, I was fool enough to be content
with such crumbs.
We had five months of happiness. I tamed down beautifully in that
time,--even consented to adopt the peerless Blanche as a model. I gave
up all my most ambitious plans and cherished schemes, because he
disliked women whose names were constantly in the mouth of the public.
In fact, I became quiet, sedate, dignified, renounced too some of my
best and dearest friends. I lived, breathed, thought, acted only for
him; for me there was but one soul in the universe--Bernard's. Still,
for all the suffering I've experienced, I'd be willing to go through it
all again just to go over those five months. Every day together, at
nights on the lake-shore listening to the soft lap of the waters as the
silver sheen of the moon spread over the dainty curled waves; sometimes
in a hammock swinging among the trees talking of love and reading
poetry. Talk about Heaven! I just think there can't he a better time
among the angels.
But there is an end to all things. A violent illness, and his father
relenting, sent for the wayward son. I will always believe he loved me,
but he was eager to get home to his mother, and anxious to view Blanche
in the light of their new relationship.
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