Paul Douglass had grown up to be a tall and handsome youth, of a very
noble, frank, attractive countenance and manners. To say that he loved
Miriam is only to say that he loved himself. She mingled with every
thought, and feeling, and purpose of his heart.
And when, at last, the time came that Paul had to leave home for
Baltimore, to remain absent all winter, for the purpose of attending the
course of lectures at the medical college, Miriam learned the pain of
parting, and understood how impossible happiness would be for her, with
Paul away, on naval or military duty, more than half their lives, and
for periods of two, three, or five years; and after that she never said
another word in favor of his wearing Uncle Sam's livery, although she
had often expressed a wish that he should enter the army.
Miriam's affection for Paul was so profound and quiet, that she did not
know its depth or strength. As she had not believed that parting from
him would be painful until the event had taught her, so even now she did
not know how intertwined with every chord and fibre of her heart and how
identical with her life, was her love for Paul. She was occupied by a
more enthusiastic devotion to her "brother," as she called her guardian.
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