I presume that, to many of my friends, he will
be nothing, and they will not understand that I should have life in
common with him. But I do not think he will care;--he has not the
slightest tinge of self-love. He has, throughout our intercourse, been
used to my having many such ties. He has no wish to be anything to
persons with whom he does not feel spontaneously bound, and when I am
occupied, is happy in himself. But some of my friends and my family,
who will see him in the details of practical life, cannot fail to
prize the purity and simple strength of his character; and, should
he continue to love me as he has done, his companionship will be an
inestimable blessing to me. I say _if_, because all human affections
are frail, and I have experienced too great revulsions in my own, not
to know it. Yet I feel great confidence in the permanence of his love.
It has been unblemished so far, under many trials; especially as I
have been more desponding and unreasonable, in many ways, than I ever
was before, and more so, I hope, than I ever shall be again. But at
all such times, he never had a thought except to sustain and cheer me.
He is capable of the sacred love,--the love passing that of woman.
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