Tracy Tupman, and which now appeared destined to
centre in one lovely object. The young ladies were pretty,
their manners winning, their dispositions unexceptionable; but
there was a dignity in the air, a touch-me-not-ishness in the
walk, a majesty in the eye, of the spinster aunt, to which, at their
time of life, they could lay no claim, which distinguished her
from any female on whom Mr. Tupman had ever gazed. That there
was something kindred in their nature, something congenial in
their souls, something mysteriously sympathetic in their bosoms,
was evident. Her name was the first that rose to Mr. Tupman's
lips as he lay wounded on the grass; and her hysteric laughter
was the first sound that fell upon his ear when he was supported
to the house. But had her agitation arisen from an amiable and
feminine sensibility which would have been equally irrepressible
in any case; or had it been called forth by a more ardent and
passionate feeling, which he, of all men living, could alone
awaken? These were the doubts which racked his brain as he lay
extended on the sofa; these were the doubts which he determined
should be at once and for ever resolved.
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