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Warfield, Catherine A.

"Miriam Monfort A Novel"


It was well understood that I was an heiress, and I did not want for
adulation. I was surrounded by fashion and beauty, and wreathed with
approbation from the noblest and most exalted, on that night of festal
splendor; and again that beautiful face that had cast its spell above me
in my inexperienced childhood, and that age never seemed to change nor
chill, bent above me with its gracious and genial sweetness, and the
princely banker on this occasion condescended to manifest his kindly and
approving interest in the daughter of his dead friend. At any other
time, such tribute would have been most grateful and acceptable to me,
for this man was almost my _beau ideal_ at this period, but now the
bitterness with which my heart was filled, permeated my whole being, and
dashed every draught of enjoyment untasted from my lips.
Yet the memory of that time--that face--returned to me later with
emotions irresistible, when the being who was then the idol of society,
became its ostracized outcast, and, among all who bowed before him in
his pride of place and power, were found, before two years had elapsed
from this period,
"None so poor
To do him reverence."
Already is the injustice of that decision forced on the convictions of
his fellow-men. Our scales are not wisely balanced in this world--we
cannot weigh motives against acts, thought against deeds, with atom-like
precision, nor measure the tempted with the temptation grain by grain,
hair by hair.


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