Hitherto his cousin's money, joined
to flatteries and caresses--which if a young man can resist he is almost
more than a young man--had tempted him; but he had combated the
temptation. On one memorable evening his love for Lucy had tempted him. To
that temptation he had yielded, and the letter by which he became engaged
to her had been written. He had never meant to evade it; had always told
himself that it should not be evaded; but gradually days had been added to
days, and months to months, and he had allowed her to languish without
seeing him, and almost without hearing from him.
She too had heard from all sides that she was deserted by him, and she had
written to him to give him back his troth; but she had not sent her
letters. She did not doubt that the thing was over--she hardly doubted;
and yet she would not send any letter. Perhaps it would be better that the
matter should be allowed to drop without any letter-writing. She would
never reproach him, though she would ever think him to be a traitor. Would
not she have starved herself for him? Could she so have served him? And
yet he could bear for her sake no touch of delay in his prosperity! Would
she not have been content to wait, and always to wait, so that he, with
some word of love, would have told her that he waited also? But he would
not only desert her, but would give himself to that false, infamous woman,
who was so wholly unfitted to be his wife.
Pages:
1128
1129
1130
1131
1132
1133
1134
1135
1136
1137
1138
1139
1140
1141
1142
1143
1144
1145
1146
1147
1148
1149
1150
1151
1152