At last I could bear it no
longer, and calling Sweep, I went out into the garden. It was
moonlight, and Maria was languidly pacing the terrace. I joined her,
and we strolled away into the shrubbery.
I cannot say that my father's warning led me to shun Maria's society.
My father and my aunt naturally talked together, and circumstances
almost forced us two into _tete-a-tetes_. I could not fail to see that
Maria liked to be with me, and I found the task of taking care of her
soothing to what I believed to be my blighted feelings. We rode
together (she had an admirable figure and rode well), and the exercise
did her health great good. We often met Mr. Clerke in our rides, and
he seemed to enjoy a canter with us, though he rode very little better
than when I first knew him. We took long walks with Sweep, and from
the oldest tenant to the latest puppy, everything about Dacrefield
seemed to interest my fair cousin. I came at last to believe that Aunt
Maria was right.
When I did come to believe it (and I do not think that any
contemptible conceit made me hasty to do so), other thoughts followed.
I was as firmly convinced as any other young man with my experiences
that I could never again feel what I had felt for the person who shall
be nameless.
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