I spend most of Friday and Saturday in this examination without making
any sensible progress until supper on Saturday night, when I casually
mention to Annie, who is laying the table, that I am bound to leave Down
End on the following Monday, as term begins on the 15th.
"Must you really go? Well, we shall miss you, surely," says Annie. And I
am not mistaken; there is a wistfulness in her blue eyes, a poignant
regret in her voice that goes to my heart.
No, Annie! that decides me; I have suffered too much from blighted
affection ever to inflict the same pangs on another. I am too well read
myself in Love's sad, glad book to mistake the signs written in your
innocent face. Without vanity I can see how different I must appear in
your eyes to all the farm hands and country bumpkins you have hitherto
met; without fatuity I can understand how unconsciously almost to
yourself you have given me your young affections. Well, to-morrow you
shall know you have won back mine in exchange.
If Catherine could but guess what is impending!
April 13 (Sunday).--Annie in the maroon and magenta gown, carrying a
clean folded handkerchief and a Church Service in her hand, has gone up
to church.
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