"
Mary put her arm tenderly around her husband's neck; and now it was
with her as it is often with generous and tender-hearted women, when
all opposition to their wishes is withdrawn, they begin to see the
other side.
"My dearest," said Mary, "I couldn't bear you to sacrifice your
prospects for me."
"Why, Mary," said Walter, "what would my love be worth if it shrank from
self-sacrifice? I really think I should feel more pleasure than pain if I
gave up friends, kindred, hope, everything that is supposed to make life
pleasant for you."
"And so would I for you," said Mary; "and oh, Walter, women have
presentiments, and something tells me that fate has great trials in store
for you or for me, perhaps for both. Yes, you are right, the true measure
of love must be self-sacrifice, and if there is to be self-sacrifice, oh,
let the self-sacrifice fall on me; for I can not think any man can love a
woman quite so deeply as I love you--my darling."
He had only time to draw her sweet forehead to his bosom, whilst her arm
encircled his neck, when in came an ordinary love by way of contrast.
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