Dinah Craik

“ Miss March looked surprised—hurt—nay, displeased; then her eye, resting on John, lost its haughtiness, and became humble and sweet.
"Mr. Halifax, I know nothing of my cousin, and I do know you. Will you tell me—candidly, as I know you will—whether there is anything in Mr. Brithwood which you think unworthy of your acquaintance?"
"He would think me unworthy of his," was the low, firm answer.
Miss March smiled incredulously. "Because you are not very rich? What can that signify? It is enough for me that my friends are gentlemen." ”

“ What I felt then, in those long, still hours, many a one has felt likewise; many a parent over a child, many a sister over a brother, many a friend over a friend. A feeling natural and universal. Let those who suffer take it patiently, as the common lot; let those who win hold the former ties in tenderest reverence, nor dare to flaunt the new bond cruelly in the face of the old. ”

“ The next morning rose, as I have seen many a morning rise at Enderley—misty and grey; but oh, so heavenly fair! with a pearly network of dewy gossamer under foot, and overhead countless thistle downs flying about, like fairy chariots hurrying out of sight of the sun, which had only mounted high enough above the Flat to touch the horizon of hills opposite, and the tops of my four poplars, leaving Rose Cottage and the valley below it all in morning shadow. John called me to go with him on the common ”

“ John's voice grew firmer—prouder—no hesitation now.
"My calling is, as you will soon hear at Norton Bury, that of a tanner. I am apprentice to Abel Fletcher—Phineas's father."
"Mr. Fletcher!" She looked up at me—a mingled look of kindliness and pain.
"Ay, Phineas is a little less beneath your notice than I am. He is rich—he has been well educated; I have had to educate myself. I came to Norton Bury six years ago—a beggar-boy. No, not quite that- -for I never begged! I either worked or starved."
The earnestness, the passion of his tone, made Miss March lift her eyes, but they fell again. ”

“ I have had such a long walk, and am so tired "
The words were cheerful, so was the tone. TOO cheerful—oh, by far! The sort of cheerfulness that strikes to a friend's heart, like the piping of soldiers as they go away back from a newly-filled grave.
"Where have you been, John?" ”

“ It is right, Miss March, that you should know who and what I am, to whom you are giving the honour of your kindness. Perhaps you ought to have known before; but here at Enderley we seemed to be equals—friends. ”

“ He broke off—instinctively, as it were—with the sort of feeling every good man has, that the sacred passion, the inmost tenderness of his love, should be kept wholly between himself and the woman he has chosen.
I knew that too; knew that in his heart had grown up a secret, a necessity, a desire, stronger than any friendship—closer than the closest bond of brotherly love. Perhaps—I hardly know why—I sighed.
John turned round—"Phineas, you must not think—because of this— which you will understand for yourself, I hope, one day ”

“ Then you will the sooner pardon my not telling you—what you never asked, and I was only too ready to forget—that we are not equals— that is, society would not regard us as such—and I doubt if even you yourself would wish us to be friends. ”

“ But no—she evidently regarded us both as mere acquaintances, inevitably, perhaps even tenderly, bound up with this time; and as such, claiming a more than ordinary place in her regard and remembrance. No man with common sense or common feeling could for a moment dare to misinterpret the emotion she showed. ”