I
blushed to think how often I had suffered myself to be foisted into it
by her already. By my walks, I would earn leave to sit with her
in-doors; and then I could save her many steps and little household
cares. Then what should I do for her husband? Sing to him in the
evening, and begin, if he liked it, to-night. It might be a little hard
the first time; but if so, there was all the more reason for having the
first time over. There was no need of my choosing sad songs, or any that
Fanny was fond of.
But it was growing late. They would be anxious. I must get up and go
home. Go _home_!--without my home-mates?--leave them here?--with no
kiss,--no good-night? I stood up, and sat down again. The blinding,
choking passion, that had seemed over, swelled up into my eyes and
throat once more. O that lonely, empty life! Must I go back to it? How
long would it last? This was my only real home. When might I come here
to sleep?
In an instant it would have been all over again with my hardly-won calm;
but in that instant a white and gray fluttering between the green graves
caught my tear-blurred sight. I thought it that of a living dove, but,
going nearer, found only a piece of torn newspaper, which had been
wrapped around the stems of the flowers, playing in the wind; and on it
my attention was caught by these quaint and pithy lines, printed in one
corner in double columns:--
"THE CONDITIONS.
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