Pity for her own
misfortunes had, indeed, taught her to curb her youthful scorn
for mediocrity, and filled her with considerateness and delicate
sensibility. Constant experience, too, of the wonderful modes whereby
her fate was shaped by overruling mercy, had chastened her love of
personal sway, and her passion for a commanding career; and
Margaret could humble herself,--did often humble herself,--with an
all-resigning contrition, that was most touching to witness in one
naturally so haughty. Of this the following letter to a valued friend
gives illustration:--
'I ought, I know, to have laid aside my own cares and griefs,
been on the alert for intelligence that would gratify you,
and written letters such as would have been of use and given
pleasure to my wise, tender, ever faithful friend. But no; I
first intruded on your happiness with my sorrowful epistles,
and then, because you did not seem to understand my position,
with sullen petulance I resolved to write no more. Nay, worse;
I tried to harden my heart against you, and felt, "If you
cannot be all, you shall be nothing."
'It was a bad omen that I lost the locket you gave me, which
I had constantly worn.
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