Grewgious between herself and him.
And now, Edwin Drood's right hand closed again upon the ring in its
little case, and again was checked by the consideration: 'It is
certain, now, that I am to give it back to him; then why should I
tell her of it?' That pretty sympathetic nature which could be so
sorry for him in the blight of their childish hopes of happiness
together, and could so quietly find itself alone in a new world to
weave fresh wreaths of such flowers as it might prove to bear, the
old world's flowers being withered, would be grieved by those
sorrowful jewels; and to what purpose? Why should it be? They
were but a sign of broken joys and baseless projects; in their very
beauty they were (as the unlikeliest of men had said) almost a
cruel satire on the loves, hopes, plans, of humanity, which are
able to forecast nothing, and are so much brittle dust. Let them
be. He would restore them to her guardian when he came down; he in
his turn would restore them to the cabinet from which he had
unwillingly taken them; and there, like old letters or old vows, or
other records of old aspirations come to nothing, they would be
disregarded, until, being valuable, they were sold into circulation
again, to repeat their former round.
Let them be. Let them lie unspoken of, in his breast. However
distinctly or indistinctly he entertained these thoughts, he
arrived at the conclusion, Let them be. Among the mighty store of
wonderful chains that are for ever forging, day and night, in the
vast iron-works of time and circumstance, there was one chain
forged in the moment of that small conclusion, riveted to the
foundations of heaven and earth, and gifted with invincible force
to hold and drag.
Pages:
180
181
182
183
184
185
186
187
188
189
190
191
192
193
194
195
196
197
198
199
200
201
202
203
204