Temptations lurked for
him and sprang out in moments of his weakness, but as temptations
they were at once recognised. 'He had gone too far to retire; he
would be guilty of sheer treachery to Jane; he would break the old
man's heart.' All which meant merely that he loved the girl, and
that it would be like death to part from her. But why part? What had
conscience got hold of, that it made all this clamour? Oh, it was
simple enough; Sidney not only had no faith in the practicability of
such a life's work as Michael visioned, but he had the profoundest
distrust of his own moral strength if he should allow himself to be
committed to lifelong renunciation. 'I am no hero,' he said, 'no
enthusiast. The time when my whole being could be stirred by social
questions has gone by. I am a man in love, and in proportion as my
love has strengthened, so has my old artist-self revived in me,
until now I can imagine no bliss so perfect as to marry Jane Snowdon
and go off to live with her amid fields and trees, where no echo of
the suffering world should ever reach us.' To confess this was to
make it terribly certain that sooner or later the burden of
conscientiousness would become intolerable.
Pages:
440
441
442
443
444
445
446
447
448
449
450
451
452
453
454
455
456
457
458
459
460
461
462
463
464