But in my grief I
think there was more reason.
I sat down to the dismal task of writing to my dear Lady Knollys. I
implored her to make her peace with my uncle. I told her how frank he had
been with me, and how he had shown me his sad reply to her letter. I told
her of the interview to which he had himself invited me with Dr. Bryerly;
how little disturbed he was by the accusation--no sign of guilt; quite the
contrary, perfect confidence. I implored of her to think the best, and
remembering my isolation, to accomplish a reconciliation with Uncle Silas.
'Only think,' I wrote, 'I only nineteen, and two years of solitude before
me. What a separation!' No broken merchant ever signed the schedule of his
bankruptcy with a heavier heart than did I this letter.
The griefs of youth are like the wounds of the gods--there is an ichor
which heals the scars from which it flows: and thus Milly and I consoled
ourselves, and next day enjoyed our ramble, our talk and readings, with a
wonderful resignation to the inevitable.
Milly and I stood in the relation of _Lord Duberly_ to _Doctor Pangloss_. I
was to mend her 'cackleology,' and the occupation amused us both.
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