He had not breathed a word of love, or dropped one hint of tenderness or affection, and yet I had been supremely happy. To be near him, to hear him talk. . .as he did talk; and to feel that he thought me worthy to be so spoken to. . .capable of understanding and duly appreciating such discourse. . .was enough.
"Yes Edward Weston, I could indeed be happy in a house full of enemies, if I had but one frend who truly, deeply, and faithfully loved me, and if that friend were you—though we might be far apart. . .seldom to hear from each other, still more seldom to meet. . .though toil, and trouble, and vexation might surround me, still. . .it would be too much happiness for me to dream of! Yet who can tell," said I within myself, as I proceeded up the park, "who can tell what this one month may bring forth? I have lived nearly three and twenty years, and I have suffered much, and tasted little pleasure yet: is it likely my life all through will be so clouded? Is it not possible that God may hear my prayers, disperse these gloomy shadows, and grant me some beams of heaven's sunshine yet? Will he entirely deny to me those blessings which are so freely given to others, who neither ask them
