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Updated: May 13, 2025
There is little of the poetry of first-love, and little of the coyness and shrinking diffidence which characterize the first attachment. Still these remarks apply almost equally to a second attachment, as to second marriage.
He asks after the father from whom he parted when quite a child; after the son, whom he never saw; but not one word of his fair first-love not one of her who was the passion of his manhood, whom he bucklered once against ten thousand. He had rather hear of Peleus and Neoptolemus than of Deidamia or Briseis.
Is it the Sabbath? Ah, no! the Sabbath was yesterday. This is his wedding morn. My dear brother bachelor, do you remember those old first-love sensations, or have you got too old, and too fat? Do you remember the night when you parted from her on the bridge by the lock, the night before her father wrote to you and forbade you the house? Have you got the rose she gave you there?
Amongst these excursions I made one by myself to that house in which my father had known the bliss and the pangs of that stern first-love which still left its scars fresh on my own memory. The house, large and imposing, was shut up, the Trevanions had not been there for years, the pleasure-grounds had been contracted into the smallest possible space.
The senior miss found out that he had a philosophic mind; Miss Caroline said she knew there was a little romance about him he had been disappointed in first-love or something; and Charles Lacy had an intuitive suspicion that the old people would soon begin to inquire regarding his income and prospects. The idea was excessively amusing, but yet somewhat alarming.
Happy those who care to revisit old abodes, childhood's remote wing, and the moonlit porches where they knew the rapture of a first-love whisper. Who can enter the chapel where their dead lie, and feel no blush of self- reproach, nor burning consciousness of broken faith nor wasted opportunities?
It would wait another ten minutes. She knew it. It was all so deadly familiar. Let us confess it at once. She was a lady's maid, thirty years old, come back to marry her first-love, a foundry worker: after having kept him dangling, off and on, for a dozen years. Why had she come back? Did she love him? No. She didn't pretend to.
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