But I know that she
pictured herself as some personage with a depressed, earnest face
and tightly closed lips, in a clear white room, watering flowers or
tending an embroidery frame. Or, she desired to go with Edward
to Africa and to throw herself in the path of a charging lion so that
Edward might be saved for Leonora at the cost of her life. Well,
along with her sad thoughts she had her childish ones. She knew
nothing--nothing of life, except that one must live sadly. That she
now knew. What happened to her on the night when she received
at once the blow that Edward wished her to go to her father in
India and the blow of the letter from her mother was this. She
called first upon her sweet Saviour--and she thought of Our Lord
as her sweet Saviour!--that He might make it impossible that she
should go to India. Then she realized from Edward's demeanour
that he was determined that she should go to India. It must then be
right that she should go. Edward was always right in his
determinations. He was the Cid; he was Lohengrin; he was the
Chevalier Bayard.
Nevertheless her mind mutinied and revolted. She could not leave
that house. She imagined that he wished her gone that she might
not witness his amours with another girl.
Pages:
288
289
290
291
292
293
294
295
296
297
298
299
300
301
302
303
304
305
306
307
308
309
310
311
312