Tregear as he
walked out of the Square knew now that he had been the cause of a
great shipwreck. At first when that passionate love had been
declared,--he could hardly remember whether with the fullest
passion by him or by her,--he had been as a god walking upon air.
That she who seemed to be so much above him should have owned that
she was all his own seemed then to be world enough for him. For a
few weeks he lived a hero to himself, and was able to tell
himself that for him, the glory of a passion was sufficient. In
those halcyon moments no common human care is allowed to intrude
itself. To one who has thus entered in upon the heroism of romance
his own daily work, his dinners, clothes, income, father and
mother, sisters and brothers, his own street and house are
nothing. Hunting, shooting, rowing, Alpine-climbing, even speeches
in Parliament,--if they perchance have been attained to,--all become
leather or prunella. The heavens have been opened to him and he
walks among them like a god. So it had been with Tregear. Then had
come the second phase of his passion,--which is not uncommon young
men who soar high in their first assaults.
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