I can hardly read it myself
without a feeling of most intense pity for poor Harley. I can
imagine the sleepless nights which followed the shattering of his
hopes as to what his story might be by the recalcitrant attitude of
the young woman he had honored so highly by selecting her for his
heroine. I can almost feel the bitter sense of disappointment, which
must have burned to the very depths of his soul, when he finally
realized how completely overturned were all his plans, and I cannot
forego calling attention to the constancy to his creed of Stuart
Harley, in sacrificing his opportunity rather than his principles, as
shown by his resolute determination not to force Miss Andrews to do
his bidding, even though it required merely the dipping of his pen
into the ink and the resolution to do so.
I cannot blame her, however. Granting to Harley the right to a
creed, Miss Andrews, too, it must be admitted, was entitled to have
views as to how she ought to behave under given circumstances, and if
she found her notions running counter to his, it was only proper that
she should act according to the dictates of her own heart, or mind,
or whatever else it may be that a woman reasons with, rather than
according to his wishes.
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