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Turnbull, Mrs. Lawrence

"A Golden Book of Venice"

But he worked without
the brilliancy and enthusiasm of a few months past--as a man steadied by
some great sorrow, striving more strenuously to give of his best where
honor is concerned, because he is conscious that the heaviness of his
heart makes all duty irksome.
For Marina, with returning health,--the physicians spoke of her thus
since they had pronounced her out of danger,--had not fully returned to
him; it was less her whiteness and wanness that oppressed him than that
nameless change in the face and eyes which suggested a ceaseless,
passionate suppression of the deep, impassioned self, under the listless
exterior; there was an immeasurable loss in the sweetness of life to
them both, though never since the early days of their love had he been
so tender and patient, so eager to gladden her in little ways. But she
answered his love more often with a mute caress of her hand upon his
cheek than with smiles or words--yet with a touch that lingered, as if
to assure him that her love was not less, though she herself was
changed.


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