He in turn wondered at his own deep content and at the strange and
unexpected turn that his affairs had taken. He not only dwelt on what
had happened, but on what might have happened--what he had hoped for
and sought to attain. He remembered with shame that he had even
wished that Madge had not been at the resort, so that he might be less
embarrassed in his suit to Miss Wildmere. From his first waking moment
in the morning he had been conscious of an immeasurable sense of
relief at his escape. He felt now that he had never deeply loved Miss
Wildmere--that she had never touched the best feelings of his heart,
because not capable of doing so. But he had admired her. He had been a
devotee of society, and she had been to him the beautiful culmination
of that phase of life. He saw he had endowed her with the womanly
qualities which would make her the light of a home as well as of the
ballroom, but he had also seen that the woman which his fancy
had created did not exist. There is a love which is the result of
admiration and illusion, and this will often cling to its imperfect
object to the end. Such was not the case with Graydon, however. His
first motive had been little more than an ambition to seek the most
brilliant of social gems with which to crown a successful life; but he
was too much of a man to marry a belle as such and be content.
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