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Reade, Charles, 1814-1884

"White Lies"

No more
suspense. My duties are clear. I have a husband I am proud of. There is
no perfidy with him, no deceit, no disingenuousness, no shade. He is a
human sun. He will make me a better, truer woman, and I him a happier
man. Yes, is it not nice to think that great and strong as he is I can
teach him a happiness he knows not as yet?" And she smiled with the
sense of her delicate power, but said no more; for she was not the one
to talk much about herself. But Rose pressed her. "Yes, go on, dear,"
she said, "I seem to see your pretty little thoughts rising out of your
heart like a bubbling fountain: go on."
Thus encouraged, Josephine thought on aloud, "And then, gratitude!" said
she. "I have heard it said, or read it somewhere, that gratitude is a
burden: I cannot understand that sentiment; why, to me gratitude is a
delight, gratitude is a passion. It is the warmest of all the tender
feelings I have for dear Monsieur Raynal. I feel it glow here, in my
bosom. I think I shall love him as I ought long before he comes back."
"BEFORE?"
"Yes," murmured Josephine, her eyes still half closed.


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