I am now far to the South again, in
prosecution of most important business, the safe progress of which
would be interrupted, and the whole large result endangered, were
your father to know of my visit at Woodbine Lodge at a time when he
thought me hundreds of miles distant. So, for his sake, as well as
my own, be discreet for a brief period. I will not long permit this
burden of secrecy to lie upon your dear young heart--oh no! I could
not be so unjust to you. Your truest, best, wisest counsellor is
your mother, and she should know all that is in your heart. Keep
your secret only for a little while, and then I will put you in full
liberty to speak of all that has just occurred. None will approve
your discretion more than your parents, I know, when all the grave
reasons for this concealment are disclosed. Dear Fanny! how
ever-present to me you are. It seems, often, as if you were moving
by my side. In lonely moments, how like far off, sweet music, comes
your voice stealing into my heart. Beloved one!--"
A sudden sound of approaching feet caused Fanny to crumple the
letter, scarcely half read, in her hand, and thrust it into her
bosom.
Pages:
170
171
172
173
174
175
176
177
178
179
180
181
182
183
184
185
186
187
188
189
190
191
192
193
194