"
"Oh! if she does not accuse me, I am sure I will not accuse her. I dare
say I am to blame; it is not her fault that I cannot make her love me."
"But you can. She does."
"Yes; but she loves others better, and she holds me out no hope it will
ever be otherwise. On this one point how can I hope for your sympathy;
unfortunately for me you are one of my rivals. She told me plainly she
never could love me as she loves you."
"And you believed her?"
"I had good reason to believe her."
Josephine smiled sadly. "Dear Edouard," said she, "you must not attach
so much importance to every word we say. Does Rose at her age know
everything? Is she a prophet? Perhaps she really fancies she will always
love her sister as she does now; but you are a man of sense; you ought
to smile and let her talk. When you marry her you will take her to your
own house; she will only see me now and then; she will have you and your
affection always present. Each day some new tie between you and her. You
two will share every joy, every sorrow. Your children playing at your
feet, and reflecting the features of both parents, will make you one.
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