Yet it was she, and
she only, who was causing him this pain, who was destroying his
happiness and breaking his heart.
She dared not speak nor move. It took all the strength she drew from
silence to keep her from breaking into a more terrible storm of grief
than even that into which he had fallen. She dared not make a sign, but
simply stood there, doing her best to bear her heavy burden to the end.
The only feeling that she had for herself was that it was cruel not to
let her die, and why did not mute anguish kill her?
For the rest, she knew that she had done the thing that was right,
however hard. It was not fitting that she should be his wife; and it was
better that he should suffer for the moment than be degraded for all
time by association with one so shameful, so dishonored, as herself.
Presently, Edgar cleared his eyes and lifted up his face. He was angry
with himself for this unmanly burst of feeling, and because angry with
himself disposed for the moment to be hard on her. She was standing
there in exactly the same spot and just the same attitude as before, her
head a little bent, her hands twined in each other, her eyes with the
pleading, frightened look of confession turned timidly to him; but as he
raised himself from the sofa, pushing back his hair and striding to the
window as if to hide the fact of his having shed tears, she turned her
eyes to the floor. She was beginning to feel now that she must not even
look at him.
Pages:
173
174
175
176
177
178
179
180
181
182
183
184
185
186
187
188
189
190
191
192
193
194
195
196
197