Why was it that, for
him, such a world of misery had been prepared? What wrong had he
done, of what imprudence had been guilty, that, at every turn of
life, something should occur so grievous as to make him think of
himself the most wretched of men? No man had ever loved his wife
more dearly than he had done; and yet now, in that very excess of
tenderness which her death had occasioned, he was driven to accuse
her of a great sin against himself, in that she had kept from him
her knowledge of this affair;--for, when he came to turn the matter
over in his mind, he did believe Tregear's statement as to her
encouragement. Then, too, he had been proud of his daughter. He
was a man so reticent and undemonstrative in his manner that he
had never known how to make confidential friends of his children.
In his sons hitherto he had not taken pride. They were gallant,
well-grown, handsome boys with a certain dash of cleverness,--more
like their mother than their father; but they had not as yet done
anything as he would have made them do it. But the girl, in the
perfection of her beauty, in the quiescence of her manner, in the
nature of her studies, and in the general dignity of her bearing,
had seemed to be all that he had desired.
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