I
have no courage to look on you, my brother, again. Mother! our
union, which we had thought life-lasting, is broken. I cannot any
longer live in the world's sight as your daughter by adoption. I
would have done so. I would have remained in any capacity, as a
slave, even, for I was bound by gratitude for all that you have done
for me, to be with you always--at least so long as you could wish.
If you had unveiled the mystery, and suffered me to stand before
you, recognising myself as _you_ know me, I would have stayed. I
would have been to you, Duncan, only as in childhood--a proud yet
humble sister, rejoicing in your triumphs, and sharing by _sympathy_
in your griefs. I would have put forth fetters on my heart; the
in-dwelling spirit should henceforth have been a stranger to you. I
_know_ I could have borne even to see another made your wife; but in
a mistaken kindness you put this utterly beyond my power. Too much
has been required, and I am found--wanting! If even the most
miserable fate that can befall an innocent woman; if the curse of
illegitimacy were upon me, I could bear that thought even, and
acknowledge the justice and wisdom that did not consider me a fit
associate for one whose birth is recognized by a parent's pride and
fondness.
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