The Indiana State sentinel. [volume] (Indianapolis) 1868-1895, 1889-03-06

past, which you forgot. | wanted what l
could not have-my youth. You had be-
longed to my youth, and my mind had
outgrown you, though | knew it not.
Nay, mean nothing unkind. We change
in body and mind. No passion, once
broken, will ever bear renewal.
She sighed heavily. He was silent; he
was deeply and cruelty humiliated, and
yet he knew that she had spoken the
truth of herself, if not of him.
go to your wife" she repeated. II
am sure that you have seen her, though l
am equally sure that you have not spoken
with her, for you would never have dared
to return to me if you had. You do not
care for her; you will never care for her,
But she embodies to you peace of mind,
social repute, and personal dignity. You
attach weight to the opinion of the world.
You are wretched if men speak i'll of you.
With that character neither man nor
woman should ever brave the world.
They should leave that temerity to those
who have both great passion and great
courage. They alone can do it and never
repent. You repent-now-everyh hour of
your lfe."
"You are cruelty unjust Never once
have | said or thought or felt anything
put the very deepest gratitude to you"
''In a sense, no. l am not denying that
you love me still. | say that, having the
the temperament you possess, you cannot
be content without tie worlds esteem.
1t wearies you to earn it, but without it
you are uneasy and ashamed"
"You would make me out the very poor
est OF FOOLS"
mo; your feeling is not ignoble, for it
comes rather from faithfulness to your
race and your traditions than from any
minor timidity or selfishness. But, let it
spring from what it may, it is you. You
are not a man who can long forget himself
in love. You have been ever LoUeidce,
never Montrose. You are incapable of
lifelong devotion"
TRY me, and you will see how merci
lessly unjust you are"
mo; you would promise what you
could not fulfil. Every year, every day,
our relations would grow more familiar to
you, and so less powerful TO hold or sat
isfy you. Every year, every day, you
would remember with more bitterness all
that you have given up in sacrificing your
good name and your position in your own
country. Your country is intolerable to
you you hate its weather, its society, its
politics, its hypocrisies, and its climate;
but yet having given it up, you sigh for
1t. And 1T is with your country, SO it is
with your wife. You do not care for her
you will never care for her. But she
represents something which you have
lost by your own act, and so you fret for
her"
Where he stood beside her in the moon
light his face flushed painfully.
at is not that. 1t is not what you
think" he said with agitation. "You
know we'll have no feeling for her OF
that sort. But know that she lives in
suffering, possibly in temptation; and l
cannot forget that when | married her |
swore TO her father that l would make
her happiness as far as a man can make
a woman's. OF course those promises are
made and forgotten in all marriages.
people can't keep them even if they would
but he was a man whom / honored and
he is dead and it seems vile to have been
false to him. That is all the regret that
is a feeling which, if you could wholly
understand it, you would despise"
Il do not despise it; but do not see
why 1t comes to you SO late"
He was silent.
He knew we'll enough that yonder on
the sea, the night that he had been bid
den by her to make and abide by his
choice, he had chosen the sacrifice of his
happiness rather than of his word but
that the anger into which his wife's un-
hidden presence had hurried him, and the
impetuOsity of his emotions, had hurried
him into the choice which had appeared
to his companion to be wholly voluntary
and dispassionately meditated. But he
could not say this to her; and, after all,
be knew that his conscience had OF
spoken to him until in the streets of
Venice he had heard the jest about his
cousins visit to Christslea.
"But love you, love you! I could
not bear nv life without you" he cried,
as he kissed the silvery furs of her man.
tie.
"Oh yes, you will bear il" she said with
a smile which was half sad, half scornful.
"You love me as much as you can love,
but it is not very profoundly. And am
quite sure that you will love many after
me. The only woman you will never love
is your wife. OF that am satisfied. But
you will 90 back to her. You will place
Yourself right in the worlds eyes. / dare
say you will have many children, like the
virtuous prince in the fairy tales, and you
will never see me in the world without
sigh. 1t will be your contribution to the
past, and YOU will imagine that you are
wretched because you have lost me; it
will even serve you, perhaps, as pose to
interest other womenW
He rose to his feet, stung and wounded
beyond words.
There was germ enough of truth in the
cruel words to hurt him more profoundly
than any accusation wholly unjust, and
vet there was injustice enough in them
to rouse an agony of indignation in his
heart.
"Have l deserved this from your" he
said with hot tears standing in his eyes.
"Have l ever given you right or cause to
say such things of me? Once, indeed,
sinned against you, l offended you.
| have done my best to atone
for that. Which of us is it now
who first speaks of severance and
OF disillusion2 Which of us is it now
who finds our relations insufficient and
monotonous? You are unjust to me-
cruelty, barbarously unjust. have told
you the truth of my own feelings as /
analzse and find them. If my candor
wrongs me in your sight ] cannot help it.
If man and a woman, after years of init
macy, cannot speak the truth to one an
other, who can? The remOrse that [ feel
for my own failure TO pledges which vol
UNFAIRLY took has nothing to do with my
devotion to you. | am neither great
man nor a good one, but such as | am |
have given you all my life. l ask nothing
of you or of Fate but to be allowed to so
oi va IL over ~