I kept my word. An hour or two sufficed to sketch my own portrait

in crayons; and in less than a fortnight I had completed an ivory

miniature of an imaginary Blanche Ingram. It looked a lovely face

enough, and when compared with the real head in chalk, the contrast

was as great as self-control could desire. I derived benefit from

the task: it had kept my head and hands employed, and had given

force and fixedness to the new impressions I wished to stamp

indelibly on my heart.

Ere long, I had reason to congratulate myself on the course of

wholesome discipline to which I had thus forced my feelings to

submit. Thanks to it, I was able to meet subsequent occurrences

with a decent calm, which, had they found me unprepared, I should

probably have been unequal to maintain, even externally.




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