My days have been most
unhappy, my nights drearier still; for a long time now, I have not thought
or said "how good a thing it is to live!"
But I acted wisely, and honorably; did I not? I did my duty, when the
temptation to neglect it was exceeding hard to resist. I went away from
the woman whom I loved, because I loved her, and respected my own name and
honor, too much to remain. It was better to break my heart, I said, than
take advantage of my position at the hall, to engage a young girl's heart,
and drag her down, in case she loved me, to the poor low sphere in which I
moved. If her father had said to me, "You have abused the trust I placed
in you, and acted with duplicity," I think it would have ruined me,
forever, in my own esteem. And would he not have had the right to say it?
So I came away from the temptation while I could, and plunged into my
proper work on earth, and found relief; but I loved her still.
Shall I speak of the correspondence which ensued between the squire and
myself? 'Twas a somewhat singular one, and revealed to me something which
I was before quite ignorant of. It is here beneath my hand; let us look at
it. It passed soon after my departure:
"Barrington Hall, Nov.
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