So after the man of law had departed, Valentine continued to lie quietly
on the sofa for perhaps an hour; he closed his eyes, and had almost the
air of a man who is trying to gather strength for something that he has
to do.
Children's voices roused him at last. Emily was moving up the garden
towards the house, leaning on John's arm; the two younger children were
with them, all the others having dispersed themselves about the place.
Valentine sat up to gaze, and as their faces got nearer a sudden
anguish, that was not envy, overcame him.
It was not so much the splendour of manly prime and strength that struck
him with the contrast to himself, not so much even the sight of love, as
of hope, and spring, and bloom, that were more than he could bear. How
sufficient to themselves they seemed! How charming Emily was! A woman
destined to inspire a life-long love seldom shows much consciousness of
it. "I never saw a fellow so deeply in love with his wife," thought
Valentine. "Surely she knows it. What are you saying to her, John?" They
had stopped under the great fruit-trees near the garden-door.
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