"
I went away in a chastened mood, no longer wrathful, for what could
woman do more for mortal man than what Eleanor Faversham had attempted?
She had gone to see whether she should stand against her rival, and with
a superb generosity, unprecedented in her sex, she had withdrawn. The
magnanimity of it overwhelmed me. I walked along the street exalting her
to viewless pinnacles of high-heartedness. And then, suddenly, the Devil
whispered in my ear that execrated word "eumoiriety." It poisoned the
rest of the day. It confirmed my conviction of the ironical designs of
Destiny. Destiny, not content with making me a victim of the accursed
principle in my own person, had used these two dear women as its
instruments in dealing me fresh humiliation. Where would it end? Where
could I turn to escape such an enemy? If I had been alone in green
fields instead of Sloane Square, I should have clapped my hands to my
head and prayed God not to drive me crazy. I should have cried wild vows
to the winds and shaken my fist at the sky and rolled upon the grass
and made a genteel idiot of myself.
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