Do you not see that the whole was a
self-immolation, the greatest, the most complete I could make? I
vowed to keep my darling tenderly. I have kept my vow; see that you
keep yours.'
The voice ceased, the story was told, and the teller gone. The
curtain over the past was never lifted again; but often, in after
years, Waring thought of this strange life and its stranger
philosophy. He could never judge them. Can we?
The next day the talk turned upon Silver. 'I know you love her,' said
the old man, 'but how much?'
'Does it need the asking?' answered Waring with a short laugh; 'am I
not giving up my name, my life, into her hands?'
'You could not give them into hands more pure.'
'I know it; I am content. And yet, I sacrifice something,' replied the
young man, thinking of his home, his family, his friends.
Old Fog looked at him. 'Do you hesitate?' he said, breaking the pause.
'Of course I do not; why do you ask?' replied Waring, irritably. 'But
some things may be pardoned, I think, in a case like mine.'
'I pardon them.'
'I can teach her, of course, and a year or so among cultivated people
will work wonders; I think I shall take her abroad, first.
Pages:
63
64
65
66
67
68
69
70
71
72
73
74
75
76
77
78
79
80
81
82
83
84
85
86
87