Go on."
He looked at her silently for a moment, his cheeks pale, his breast
heaving. Before he came to Beryngford, he had fought his battle
between religion and human passion, and passion had won. He had cast
under his feet every principle and tradition in which he had been
reared, and resolved to live alone henceforth for the love and
companionship of one human being, could he obtain her consent to go
with him.
Yet for the moment, he hesitated to speak the words he had resolved
to utter, under the roof of a house of God, so strong were the
influences of his early training and his habits of thought. But as
his eyes feasted upon the face before him, his hesitation vanished,
and he leaned toward her and spoke. "Joy," he said, "three years ago
I went away and left you in sorrow, alone, because I was afraid to
brave public opinion, afraid to displease my mother and ask you to be
my wife. The story your mother told me of your birth, a story she
left in manuscript for you to read, made a social coward of me. I
was afraid to take a girl born out of wedlock to be my life
companion, the mother of my children. Well, I married a girl born in
wedlock; and where is my companion?" He paused and laughed
recklessly. Then he went on hurriedly: "She is in an asylum for the
insane.
Pages:
140
141
142
143
144
145
146
147
148
149
150
151
152
153
154
155
156
157
158
159
160
161
162
163
164