The only cloud that crossed her sky now was sometimes
when this passion of Sterling's oppressed her or constrained her, and
made her feel that her love was less than his.
Sterling was in the first flush of manhood, some half dozen years her
senior--a hazel-eyed, bright-haired Saxon, and a noble, upright
fellow: he was as prosperous in his fortunes as he had a right to
expect, for his father had established him in a good business, and
with suitable thrift and care there was no reason why he should not
succeed. His father was a man of such strict adherence to theory that
he allowed the boy, as he still called him, only the same chance that
he himself had had: he lent him his capital and exacted a rigid
payment of the interest. "John shall share my fortune equally with
Helen and his mother," Mr. Sterling used to say, "when he has shown me
that he deserves it and can double it." And John, sure that any theory
of his father's was as right as a law of the universe, was only
anxious to keep the warm affection that he knew lay behind the stern
principle.
He lived with Lilian's mother, whom he had persuaded, when she found
it necessary to make exertion, to come to the city and rent a house
there for himself and two or three of his friends. He meant to take
the house off her hands as soon as he was able to afford so large an
expenditure, and meantime he did all he could to help her render it
attractive and homelike.
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