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Harraden, Beatrice, 1864-1936

"Ships That Pass in the Night"


I reasoned about it too: it could not harm you that I loved you. No one
could be the worse for being loved. So little by little I yielded myself
this luxury; and my heart once so dried up, began to flower again; yes,
little one, you will smile when I tell you that my heart broke out into
flower.
"When I think of it all now, I am not sorry that I let myself go. At
least I have learnt what I knew nothing of before: now I understand what
people mean when they say that love adds a dignity to life which nothing
else can give. That dignity is mine now, nothing can take it from me;
it is my own. You are my very own; I love everything about you. From the
beginning I recognized that you were clever and capable. Though I often
made fun of what you said, that was simply a way I had; and when I saw
you did not mind, I continued in that way, hoping always to vex you;
your good temper provoked me, because I knew that you made allowances
for me being a Petershof invalid. You would never have suffered a strong
man to criticize you as I did; you would have flown at him, for you are
a feverish little child: not a quiet woolly lamb. At first I was wild
that you should make allowances for me.


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