From that time I noticed a change in Delia. She grew silent in
company, and had an absent way about her that contrasted strongly
with her former social disposition. Young people rallied her in the
usual style about her heart being absent with the beloved one, but I
read the signs differently. It could not but follow, that a soul,
endowed like hers, would have misgivings in view of an alliance with
one like Ralph Dewey. What was there in him to satisfy a true
woman's yearnings for conjunction with a kindred nature? Nothing! He
was all outside as to good. A mere selfish, superficial, speculating
man of the world. While she had a heart capable of the deepest and
truest affection. Would he make the fitting complement to her life?
Alas! No! That were a thing impossible.
During the few months that preceded this marriage, I often heard its
promise discussed by my wife and Mrs. Dean, neither of whom had any
strong liking for the young New York merchant.
"It's my opinion," said Mrs. Dean, as she sat with my wife one
evening, about two months after the engagement had taken place,
"that Ralph has more froth than substance about him.
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