There was in her nature a suave harmony, a sweet and gracious calm,
which love itself did not so much disturb as enrich and change,--love
which had been born in the sacred loneliness of sorrow,--complicated
with tender longing towards little children, nourished in silence, with
beautiful shame and pride, and impassioned fear.
Yet it was necessary to her, even in all withdrawal from its object,
even though it should be denied all expression for ever--necessary to
the life that it troubled and raised, and enriched, with a vision of
withheld completeness that was dimmed by the tears of her half "divine
despair."
She rose and held out her hand, and when he smiled with a certain air of
embarrassment, she did also. She observed that he was sensitive about
the ridiculous affair which had led to his turning out his household,
besides this early call made her feel, but not in a way to discompose
her as if she were taken into the number of those ladies, among whom he
meant to make his selection. Yes, it was as she had hoped. It warmed her
to the heart to see it, but not the less was she aware of the ridiculous
side of it.
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