She had been brought up rather in a school of Spartan
endurance than in one of maudlin self-indulgence, and could bear many a
pain and relinquish many a hope in silence.
After she had been at home about a week, her friend proposed that she
should accompany her in some little excursion, having pleasure alone for
its object. She caught at the idea most eagerly at first; but her hope
stood still, waned, and had almost disappeared before, after many delays,
it was realised. In its fulfilment at last, it was a favourable specimen
of many a similar air-bubble dancing before her eyes in her brief career,
in which stern realities, rather than pleasures, formed the leading
incidents.
"July 26th, 1839.
"Your proposal has almost driven me 'clean daft'--if you don't
understand that ladylike expression, you must ask me what it means
when I see you. The fact is, an excursion with you anywhere,--whether
to Cleathorpe or Canada,--just by ourselves, would be to me most
delightful. I should, indeed, like to go; but I can't get leave of
absence for longer than a week, and I'm afraid that would not suit
you--must I then give it up entirely? I feel as if I _could not_; I
never had such a chance of enjoyment before; I do want to see you and
talk to you, and be with you.
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