Six years ago, if they had been allowed, they would
have married without counting the cost; but those six years had brought
them experience of the world, of themselves, and of each other, and they
feared the venture. If Mr. Cecil Burleigh had been without ambition, his
secretaryship would have maintained them a modest home; but neither had
he a mind for the exclusive retired pleasures of the domestic hearth,
nor she the wish to forego the delights of society. There was no romance
in poverty for Julia Gardiner. It was too familiar; it signified to her
shifts, privations, expediencies, rude humiliations, and rebuffs. And
that was not the life for Mr. Cecil Burleigh. Their best friends said
so, and they acquiesced. From this it followed that the time was come
for them to part. Julia was twenty-four. The present opportunity of
settling herself by a desirable marriage lost, she might never have
another--might wear away youth, beauty, expectation, until no residuum
were left her but bitterness and regret. She would have risked it at a
word from Cecil, but that word was not spoken. He reasoned with himself
that he had no right to speak it. He was not prepared to give all for
love, though he keenly regretted what he resigned. He realized frankly
that he lost in losing Julia a true, warm sympathizer in his
aspirations, and a loving peace in his heart that had been a God's
blessing to him. Oh, if there had been only a little more money between
them!
He reflected on many things, but on this most, and as he reflected there
came a doubt upon him whether it was well done to sever himself from the
dear repose he had enjoyed in loving her--whether there might not be a
more far-sighted prudence in marrying her than in letting her go.
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