Sorrowfully looking forward through the vista of future years, he thought he saw that Henrietta would become Paul's wife.

Were it so, what should he do?
Annihilate himself as far as all personal happiness in the world was concerned, and look solely to their happiness, their prosperity, and their joys?
Be as it were a beneficent old fairy to them, though the agony of his own disappointment should never depart from him?
Should he do this and be blessed by them,--or should he let Paul Montague know what deep resentment such ingratitude could produce?
When had a father been kinder to a son, or a brother to a brother, than he had been to Paul?
His home had been the young man's home, and his purse the young man's purse.

What right could the young man have to come upon him just as he was perfecting his bliss and rob him of all that he had in the world?
He was conscious all the while that there was a something wrong in his argument,--that Paul when he commenced to love the girl knew nothing of his friend's love,--that the girl, though Paul had never come in the way, might probably have been as obdurate as she was now to his entreaties.

He knew all this because his mind was clear.

But yet the injustice,--at any rate, the misery was so great, that to forgive it and to reward it would be weak, womanly, and foolish.