You knew that
I was only a working man. It isn't as if there had been any hope of
my making a larger income, and you were disappointed.'
'Does it make it easier to bear because there is no hope of relief?'
she cried,
'For me, yes. If there _were_ hope, I might fret under the misery.'
'Oh, I had hope once! It might have been so different with me. The
thought burns and burns and burns, till I am frantic. You don't help
me to bear it. You leave me alone when I most need help. How can
_you_ know what it means to me to look back and think of what might
have been? You say to yourself I am selfish, that I ought to be
thankful some. one took pity on me, poor, wretched creature that I
am. It would have been kinder never to have come near me. I should
have killed myself long ago, and there an end. You thought it was a
great thing to take me, when you might have had a wife who would--'
'Clara! Clara! When you speak like that, I could almost believe you
are really mad. For Heaven's sake, think what you are saying!
Suppose I were to reproach you with having consented to marry me? I
would rather die than let such a word pass my lips--but suppose
you heard me speaking to you like this?'
She drew a deep sigh, and let her hands fall.
Pages:
704
705
706
707
708
709
710
711
712
713
714
715
716
717
718
719
720
721
722
723
724
725
726
727
728