'Don't leave us, Tom. Don't sit by yourself. We want to make you merry;
not melancholy.'
'My dear friend,' said Tom, with a cheerful smile.
'Brother, Tom. Brother.'
'My dear brother,' said Tom; 'there is no danger of my being melancholy,
how can I be melancholy, when I know that you and Ruth are so blest in
each other! I think I can find my tongue tonight, John,' he added, after
a moment's pause. 'But I never can tell you what unutterable joy this
day has given me. It would be unjust to you to speak of your having
chosen a portionless girl, for I feel that you know her worth; I am sure
you know her worth. Nor will it diminish in your estimation, John, which
money might.'
'Which money would, Tom,' he returned. 'Her worth! Oh, who could see her
here, and not love her! Who could know her, Tom, and not honour her! Who
could ever stand possessed of such a heart as hers, and grow indifferent
to the treasure! Who could feel the rapture that I feel to-day, and love
as I love her, Tom, without knowing something of her worth! Your joy
unutterable! No, no, Tom. It's mine, it's mine.
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