Then he could not help asking her why she had not trusted him?
"Why did you not say to me long ago, 'I love you, but I am a wife; my
husband is an honest soldier, absent, and fighting for France: I am the
guardian of his honor and my own; be just, be generous, be self-denying;
depart and love me only as angels love'? Perhaps this might have helped
me to show you that I too am a man of honor."
"Perhaps I was wrong," sighed Josephine. "I think I should have trusted
more to you. But then, who would have thought you could really doubt my
love? You were ill; I could not bear you to go till you were well, quite
well. I saw no other way to keep you but this, to treat you with feigned
coldness. You saw the coldness, but not what it cost me to maintain it.
Yes, I was unjust; and inconsiderate, for I had many furtive joys to
sustain me: I had you in my house under my care--that thought was always
sweet--I had a hand in everything that was for your good, for your
comfort. I helped Jacintha make your soup and your chocolate every day.
I had the delight of lining the dressing-gown you were to wear.
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