No. "Disappointed" is not the word. I can't find the word. There was a
moment--I hardly dare write it: it seems so atrociously wicked--there was
a moment when I actually wished myself blind again.
He took me in his arms; he held my hand in his. In the time when I was
blind, how I should have felt it! how the delicious _tingle_ would have
run through me when he touched me! Nothing of the kind happened now. He
might have been Oscar's brother for all the effect he produced on me. I
have myself taken his hand since, and shut my eyes to try and renew my
blindness, and put myself back completely as I was in the old time. The
same result still. Nothing, nothing, nothing!
Is it that he is a little restrained with me on his side? He certainly
is! I felt it the moment he came into the room--I have felt it ever
since.
No: it is not that. In the old time, when we were only beginning to love
each other, he was restrained with me. But it made no difference then. I
was not the insensible creature in those days that I have become since.
I can only account for it in one way. The restoration of my sight has
made a new creature of me. I have gained a sense--I am no longer the same
woman. This great change must have had some influence over me that I
never suspected until Oscar came here. Can the loss of my sense of
feeling be the price that I have paid for the recovery of my sense of
sight?
When Grosse comes next, I shall put that question to him.
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