John Halifax, Gentleman by Dinah Maria Mulock Craik
page 48 of 763 (06%)
page 48 of 763 (06%)
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"You must spend it within doors then." John shook his head. "You
ought; it must be dreadfully cold on this bark-heap after sunset." "Rather, sometimes. Are you cold now? Shall I fetch--but I haven't anything fit to wrap you in, except this rug." He muffled it closer round me; infinitely light and tender was his rough-looking boy's hand. "I never saw anybody so thin as you; thinner much since I saw you. Have you been very, very ill, Phineas? What ailed you?" His anxiety was so earnest, that I explained to him what I may as well explain here, and dismiss, once for all; the useless topic, that from my birth I had been puny and diseased; that my life had been a succession of sicknesses, and that I could hope for little else until the end. "But don't think I mind it; John;" for I was grieved to see his shocked and troubled look. "I am very content; I have a quiet home, a good father, and now I think and believe I have found the one thing I wanted--a good friend." He smiled, but only because I did. I saw he did not understand me. In him, as in most strong and self-contained temperaments, was a certain slowness to receive impressions, which, however, being once received, are indelible. Though I, being in so many things his opposite, had none of this peculiarity, but felt at once quickly and keenly, yet I rather liked the contrary in him, as I think we almost always do like in another those peculiarities which are most |
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