He had accepted the situation, and
he gave himself not a little credit for his philosophical patience. He
regarded himself as committed to a deep and politic plan, in which,
however, there was no unworthy guile. He would make himself essential to
Amy's happiness. He would be so quietly and naturally devoted to her that
she would gradually come to look forward to a closer union as a matter of
course. He also made it clear to her that she had no rivals in his
thoughts, or even admiration, and, as far as courtesy permitted, withdrew
from the society of a few favorites who once had welcomed him gladly and
often. He had even pretended indifference to the advent of a dark-eyed
beauty to the neighborhood, and had made no efforts to form her
acquaintance. This stranger from the city was so charming, however, that
he had felt more than once that he was giving no slight proof of
constancy. His fleet horse Thunder was his great ally, and in the long
twilight evenings, he, with Amy, explored the country roads far and near.
When the early mornings were not too warm they rowed upon the river, or
went up the Moodna Creek for water-lilies, which at that hour floated
upon the surface with their white petals all expanded--beautiful emblems
of natures essentially good. From mud and slime they developed purity and
fragrance. He was also teaching Amy to be an expert horsewoman, and they
promised themselves many a long ride when autumn coolness should make
such exercise more agreeable.
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