Indeed, though, the heart of Mr. Woods just now
was full of loving kindness and capable of any freakish magnanimity.
For--will it be believed?--Mr. Woods, who four years ago had thrown
over a fortune and exiled himself from his native land, rather than
propose marriage to Margaret Hugonin, had no sooner come again into
her presence and looked once into her perfectly fathomless eyes than
he could no more have left her of his own accord than a moth can turn
his back to a lighted candle. He had fancied himself entirely cured
of that boy-and-girl nonsense; his broken heart, after the first few
months, had not interfered in the least with a naturally healthy
appetite; and, behold, here was the old malady raging again in his
veins and with renewed fervour.
And all because the girl had a pretty face! I think you will agree
with me that in the conversation I have recorded Margaret had not
displayed any great wisdom or learning or tenderness or wit, nor,
in fine, any of the qualities a man might naturally look for in a
helpmate. Yet at the precise moment he handed his baggage-check to the
groom, Mr.
Pages:
29
30
31
32
33
34
35
36
37
38
39
40
41
42
43
44
45
46
47
48
49
50
51
52
53