"Gladly could I
teach a little school, or be a governess somewhere, or, like our
connection, the mother of Washington, ride afield in my sun-bonnet and
straw hat and oversee the laborers."
"That never made General Washington, Miss Vesta. It was marriage that
lent him to the world; first, his half-brother's marriage with the
Fairfaxes; next, his own with Custis's rich widow. Had they been looking
for natural parts only, some Daniel Morgan or Ethan Allen would have
been Washington's commander."
"Why do you draw me to you by awakening the motive of my self-love?"
asked Vesta. "That is not the way to preserve my heart as you would have
it."
"In every way I can draw you to me," spoke Milburn, again trembling with
earnestness, "I feel desperate to try. If it is wrong, it arises from my
sense of self-preservation. Without you I am a dismal failure, and my
labor in life is thrown away."
"Do you really believe you love me? Is it not ambition of some kind;
perhaps a social ambition?"
"To marry a Custis?" Milburn exclaimed. "No, it is to marry _you_. I
would rather you were not a Custis."
"Ah! I see, sir;" Vesta's face flushed with some admiration for the man;
"you think your family name is quite as good. So you ought to do. Then
you love me from a passion?"
"Partly that," answered Milburn. "I love you from my whole temperament,
whatever it is; from the glow of youth and the reflection of manhood,
from appreciation of you, and from worship, also; from the eye and the
mind.
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