Then came the agony I had long known must come. I must give up Agatha.
How could I, who had not one shilling in my pocket, marry the daughter
of Sir John Thesiger, a girl, delicate and refined, who had been brought
up in all imaginable luxury? Let me work hard as I might, I could hardly
hope to make two hundred a year. In all honor and in all conscience I
was bound to give her up.
I had no prospect before me save that of returning to my former position
as clerk. Agatha Thesiger must never be a clerk's wife, she who could
marry any peer in the land!
Talk of waiting and hoping! I had nothing to hope for. The savings of my
whole life would not keep her, as she had been kept, for even one year.
I must give her up. Ah, my God! It was hard--so bitterly hard! I told
Sir John, and he looked wretched as myself.
"I see, I see. It is the only thing to be done. If I could give her a
fortune you should not lose her; but I cannot, and she must not come to
poverty."
Lady Thesiger wept bitterly over me.
"I foresaw it from the first," she said. "I knew it was not the loss of
Crown Anstey, but the loss of Agatha, that would be your sorest trial.
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