She was so good, so pure, so pretty, so loving!"
"Loving! A man's love is so easily transferred;--as easily as a
woman's hand;--is it not, Phineas? Say the word, for it is what you
are thinking."
"I was thinking of no such thing."
"You must think it--You need not be afraid to reproach me. I could
bear it from you. What could I not bear from you? Oh, Phineas;--if I
had only known myself then, as I do now!"
"It is too late for regrets," he said. There was something in the
words which grated on her feelings, and induced her at length to
withdraw herself from his arm. Too late for regrets! She had never
told herself that it was not too late. She was the wife of another
man, and therefore, surely it was too late. But still the word coming
from his mouth was painful to her. It seemed to signify that for him
at least the game was all over.
"Yes, indeed," she said,--"if our regrets and remorse were at our own
disposal! You might as well say that it is too late for unhappiness,
too late for weariness, too late for all the misery that comes from a
life's disappointment.
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