An Engagement of Convenience: A NovelZangwill, Louis
General
An Engagement of Convenience: A Novel
Zangwill, Louis
Fiction
Not that she crudely supposed that, in his conduct to her, he was swayed
by ulterior considerations. She saw that he had genuinely an affection
for her, more kind and brotherly than a lover's affection; she knew that
he was trying to like her better, to raise her in his estimation far
higher than the truth. And she conceded that his hesitation was natural,
that she was no mate for him, that his world would openly despise her.
No, he must not marry her for the safety her fortune would bring him.
She would marry only for love, and, as that she could never win, she
would consequently never marry.
She dreaded now lest the situation should take a more definite turn,
lest he should begin to woo her in earnest. She wished to be left in
contentment with her deep secret happiness which could never be effaced
from her life. She had had her way. It was she who had brought him the
succour he needed; she--of whose existence he had never dreamed, whom he
had often met face to face yet never glanced at. It was she who had
rescued for the world's benefit this splendid genius that the world had
rejected. This was joy enough. To anything else the end must be
disillusion.
For awhile she lived in terror lest he might speak. But as the work
progressed, and he became more and more enthusiastic over her portrait,
she could not but fall a victim to the subtle implication, and begin to
believe that he must really think more of her than she had ever dared to
imagine. It was then that her stern control of herself began to slip
away. Wilfully she shut her eyes to all that she understood only too
well, and surrendered herself to the spell and wonder of the vista that
opened before her. It was the best thing that life had brought her, she
told herself, and in an impulse of pagan desire she was impelled to
wring from it the last drop of passionate happiness it could afford her.
Her love for him reached out into new depths; the dull, despairing,
impossible love of before became a fever, a frenzy, a great yearning
passion that must pour itself out or kill her.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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