me, now, to say of this clay, so soon to be mingled with the dust of the earth, that it was beautiful⁠—too much so, alas, for my own peace of mind⁠—for it made me despise the humble and honest suitors who might have secured me a lowly, happy life. Yet it was not that, either, and I’ll not demean myself to say so⁠—it was not because I was handsome that I held myself aloof from those in my own station; it was because I felt that I had thoughts and tastes they could not understand⁠—that my life was above theirs in hope, in aspiration. I was ambitious, but only to develop the best that was in me. If I could only be a needlewoman all my days, then I would be so skillful and so fanciful with my work, as almost to paint pictures with my needle and thread. But this isn’t telling you about George Thorley. From the first I took a dislike to him. I’m not good at reading character, but I understood his pretty thoroughly, and I was afraid of him. I was very cold to him, for I saw that he was of a quick temper, and I did not mean he should say that I had ever encouraged him. I told my aunt I did not think he was a gentleman⁠—I had seen plenty of real gentlemen in the houses where I sewed, and they were not like him. I told her, too, that he had a violent temper, and a jealous disposition, and could not make any woman happy. But she would not think of him in that light; her heart was set on the apothecary’s shop, which, she said, would grow into a fine drugstore with the doctor’s name in gilt letters on the door of his office.

“George soon offered himself, and was terribly angry when I refused him. I believe he loved me, in his selfish way, better than he loved any other human creature. He would not give me up, nor allow me any peace from his persecutions. He dogged my steps whenever I went out, and if I spoke to any other man, it put him in a rage. I got to feeling that I was watched all the time; for sometimes he would laugh in his hateful way, and tell me of things he had seen when I thought him miles away.

“Twice, in particular, I remember of his being in a savage passion, and threatening me. It was after”⁠—here the speaker’s voice, despite of her efforts to keep it steady, trembled and sunk⁠—“he had seen me riding out in the carriage with Mrs. Moreland. He said those people were making a fool of me⁠—that I was so set up, by their attentions, as to despise him. I told him that if I despised him, it was not for any such reason. It was because he behaved so ungentlemanly toward me, spying around me, when he had no business whatever with my affairs. That made him madder than ever, and he muttered words which I did not like. I told him I was not afraid of any mortal thing, and I didn’t think he would frighten me into marrying him. He said he would scare me yet, so that I would never get over it. I think he liked the spirit I showed; it seemed the more I tried to make him hate me, the more determined he was to pursue me. I don’t know how it was that I understood him so well, for in those days there had been nothing whispered against his character. Indeed, people didn’t know much about him; and he got himself into the good graces of some of the leading citizens of Blankville. He had told me something of his history; that is, that his family were English; that he, like myself, was an orphan; that, by dint of good luck, he had got a place in a doctor’s office in one of the towns in this State⁠—one of those humble situations where he was expected to take care of the physician’s horse, drive the carriage, put up medicines, attend upon orders, and anything and everything. He was smart and quick; he had many hours of leisure when waiting behind the little counter, and these hours he spent in studying the doctor’s books, which he managed to get hold of one at a time. By these means, and by observing keenly the physician’s methods, his advice to patients who called at the office, and by reading and putting up prescriptions constantly, he picked up a really surprising smattering of science. Making up his mind to be a doctor, and to keep a drugstore (a profitable business, he knew) he had the energy to carry out his plans. How he finally obtained the capital to set up the little business in Blankville, I never understood, but I knew that he attended lectures on surgery, one winter, in New York, and was in a hospital there a short time. All this was fair enough, and proved him ambitious and energetic; but I did not like or trust him. There was something dark and hidden in the workings of his mind, from which I shrunk. I knew him, too, to be cruel. I could see it in his manner of treating children and animals; there was nothing he liked so well as to practice his half-learned art of surgery upon some unfortunate sufferer. The more he insisted on my liking him, the more I grew to dread him.

“Affairs were at this crisis when my cousin came from New York to pay my aunt a visit. Coming to our rooms almost every evening, of course he made her acquaintance immediately. For the purpose of making me jealous, he began to pay the most devoted attention to her. Nora was a pretty girl, with blue eyes and fair hair; an innocent-minded thing, not very sharp, apprenticed to a milliner

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