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Wood, Henry, Mrs., 1814-1887

"Elster's Folly"

"If you only knew what my
humiliation has been!"
"Not of that, no; I don't know why I mentioned it. But I want you to
speak of something else, Val. Over and over again has it been on my lips
to ask it. What secret trouble is weighing you down?"
A far greater change, than the one called up by recollection and its
shame, came over his face now. He did not speak; and Mrs. Ashton
continued. She held his hands as he bent towards her.
"I have seen it all along. At first--I don't mind confessing it--I took
it for granted that you were on bad terms with yourself on account of the
past. I feared there was something wrong between you and your wife, and
that you were regretting Anne. But I soon put that idea from me, to
replace it with a graver one."
"What graver one?" he asked.
"Nay, I know not. I want you to tell me. Will you do so?"
He shook his head with an unmistakable gesture, unconsciously pressing
her hands to pain.
"Why not?"
"You have just said I am dear to you," he whispered; "I believe I am so."
"As dear, almost, as my own children."
"Then do not even wish to know it. It is an awful secret; and I must bear
it without sympathy of any sort, alone and in silence. It has been upon
me for some years now, taking the sweetness out of my daily bread; and it
will, I suppose, go with me to my grave. Not scarcely to lift it off my
shoulders, would I impart it to _you_.


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