“If Herbert hoped to marry his brother’s widow, he at least determined to leave her free to choose for herself. Jessie found herself pleasantly domiciled in a new home, with a handsome provision for herself and child, and surrounded by all the appliances of American comfort before she had yet recovered from the dull torpor of her grief. For fifteen years Herbert had lived but for her. During the five years preceding her marriage his whole soul had been devoted to her; and when afterward he tried to banish her image, he found though he might dethrone the idol, the sentiment of loyal love, like a subtile perfume, had diffused itself through his whole being. Was it strange, then, if he should once more dream that his love and faith might do more than remove mountains—that his devotion might veil the unsightliness of his person—that he might yet be beloved and rewarded?
“Now tell me, Annie, how do you think my story is going to end?”
“In the marriage of Jessie to the devoted Herbert,” replied Annie. “It is not in the nature of woman to be insensible to such devotion.”
“Remember that Jessie knew nothing of his pecuniary sacrifices, had no suspicion of his agency in bringing about her marriage; did not dream of his self-denying, self-forgetting love.”
“But no woman could doubt the true meaning of all his devotedness.”
“He had never flattered her with gentle words; never wooed her in courtly phrase; never played the lover in the most approved fashion. He had been the adviser, the Mentor, the steady friend; love had been the pervading and animating soul of all he thought and all he did, but his very magnanimity had been as a cloak to conceal his affections. Do you think a woman like Jessie—an ordinary woman, lovely and gentle, but withal having no perception of that inner life which so few can penetrate—do you think she could see through this magnanimous reserve, and detect the hidden love?”
“Surely, surely!”
“Recollect that she had early learned to pity him for his personal defects, and though ‘pity’ may be ‘akin to love’ in our sex, yet no woman ever loves a man she must look down upon with compassion.”
“But his nobler qualities must have commanded her respect.”
“Suppose they were so far above her perceptions as to inspire her with awe instead of respect? A woman never loves the man she pities, nor will she love the man whose superiority she fears. Jessie compassionated Herbert’s bodily weaknesses, and she had a vague terror of his stern, uncompromising ideas of right and wrong.”