It hurts me to feel
like this when you are near me, and it happens often. I feel that
my heart should be wholly sincere for you; that I should disguise
no thought, however transient, in my heart; and I love the sweet
carelessness, which suits me so well, too much to endure this
embarrassment and constraint any longer. So I will tell you about
my anguish--yes, it is anguish. Listen to me! do not begin with
the little 'Tut, tut, tut,' that you use to silence me, an
impertinence that I love, because anything from you pleases me.
Dear soul from heaven, wedded to mine, let me first tell you that
you have effaced all memory of the pain that once was crushing the
life out of me. I did not know what love was before I knew you.
Only the candor of your beautiful young life, only the purity of
that great soul of yours, could satisfy the requirements of an
exacting woman's heart. Dear love, how very often I have thrilled
with joy to think that in these nine long, swift years, my
jealousy has not been once awakened. All the flowers of your soul
have been mine, all your thoughts. There has not been the faintest
cloud in our heaven; we have not known what sacrifice is; we have
always acted on the impulses of our hearts. I have known
happiness, infinite for a woman.
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