Then he passed his arm round her waist and murmured an
almost timorous--
"Really?"
"I don't know what you are trying to make me say!" she answered.
He looked down at her for a moment as he held her close to him.
"I don't see, after all, why I should wish to make you say it. It would
only make my remorse more acute."
She was musing, with her eyes on the fire, and for a moment she made no
answer; then, as if her attention were returning--
"Are you still talking about your remorse?" she asked.
"You see I put it very strongly."
"That I was a horrid creature?"
"That you were not a woman to marry."
"Ah, my poor Bernard," said Angela, "I can't attempt to prove to you
that you are not inconsistent!"
The month of September drew to a close, and she consented to fix a day
for their wedding. The last of October was the moment selected, and the
selection was almost all that was wanting to Bernard's happiness. I say
"almost," for there was a solitary spot in his consciousness which felt
numb and dead--unpervaded by the joy with which the rest of his spirit
seemed to thrill and tingle. The removal of this hard grain in the sweet
savour of life was needed to complete his felicity.
Pages:
227
228
229
230
231
232
233
234
235
236
237
238
239
240
241
242
243
244
245
246
247
248
249
250
251