Now, what could this be? I had never seen her since her
mother's _faux pas_ at Aberdeen had been the cause of her removal to her
grandmother's at Banff; we were both the merest children. I had and have
been attached fifty times since that period; yet I recollect all we said
to each other, all our caresses, her features, my restlessness,
sleeplessness, my tormenting my mother's maid to write for me to her,
which she at last did, to quiet me. Poor Nancy thought I was wild, and,
as I could not write for myself, became my secretary. I remember, too,
our walks, and the happiness of sitting by Mary, in the children's
apartment, at their house not far from the Plain-stanes at Aberdeen,
while her lesser sister Helen played with the doll, and we sat gravely
making love, in our way.
How the deuce did all this occur so early? where could it originate? I
certainly had no sexual ideas for years afterwards; and yet my misery,
my love for that girl were so violent, that I sometimes doubt if I have
ever been really attached since. Be that as it may, hearing of her
marriage several years after was like a thunder-stroke--it nearly choked
me--to the horror of my mother and the astonishment and almost
incredulity of every body. And it is a phenomenon in my existence (for I
was not eight years old) which has puzzled, and will puzzle me to the
latest hour of it; and lately, I know not why, the _recollection_ (_not_
the attachment) has recurred as forcibly as ever.
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