If
it's the lawyer or the doctor, I'll have a divorce, certain. If it were
the artist--more's the pity it's not--I--well, I shouldn't ask for a
divorce. I do like Hugh! I like him more and more every day, and I
almost wish I hadn't played that shameful trick upon him. I know he
loves me dearly--poor little, mad-headed me! And I--oh! how could I
think to marry Sir Roger Trajenna, knowing in my heart I loved Hugh?
Dear, dear! it's such a pity I can't be good, and take to love-making,
and marriage, and shirt-buttons, like other girls! But I can't; it's not
in me. I was born a rattle-pate, and I don't see how any one can blame
me for letting 'nater caper.'"
She rose up impatiently and began pacing the room--always her first
impulse in moments of perplexity.
"I'm a mystery and a puzzle to myself and to everybody else. I don't
know who I am, nor what my real name may be--if I have any right to a
name! I don't know what I am to this Mr. Walraven, and I don't know who
that mysterious woman, Miriam, is. I don't know anything. I have a
husband, and I don't know him--shouldn't recognize him if I met him
face to face this instant.
Pages:
141
142
143
144
145
146
147
148
149
150
151
152
153
154
155
156
157
158
159
160
161
162
163
164
165