Colonel Quaritch, V.C.: A Tale of Country LifeHaggard, H. Rider (Henry Rider)
General
Colonel Quaritch, V.C.: A Tale of Country Life
Haggard, H. Rider (Henry Rider)
Country life -- Fiction; Pastoral fiction
“Try and you will see,” she answered, with a little laugh. “And now, as
the curtain has dropped, and it is all over between us, why the best
thing that we can do is to put out the lights and go to bed,” and she
laughed again and courtesied with much assumed playfulness.
“Good-night, Mr. Cossey; good-night, and good-bye.”
He held out his hand. “Come, Belle,” he said, “don’t let us part like
this.”
She shook her head and once more put her arms behind her. “No,” she
answered, “I will not take your hand. Of my own free will I shall never
touch it again, for to me it is like the hand of the dead. Good-bye,
once more; good-bye to you, Edward, and to all the happiness that I
ever had. I built up my life upon my love for you, and you have
shattered it like glass. I do not reproach you; you have followed after
your nature and I must follow after mine, and in time all things will
come right—in the grave. I shall not trouble you any more, provided
that you do not try to marry Ida, for that I will not bear. And now go,
for I am very tired,” and turning, she rang the bell for the servant to
show him out.
In another minute he was gone. She listened till she heard the front
door close behind him, and then gave way to her grief. Flinging herself
upon the sofa, she covered her face with her hands and moaned bitterly,
weeping for the past, and weeping, too, for the long desolate years
that were to come. Poor woman! whatever was the measure of her sin it
had assuredly found her out, as our sins always do find us out in the
end. She had loved this man with a love which has no parallel in the
hearts of well-ordered and well-brought-up women. She never really
lived till this fatal passion took possession of her, and now that its
object had deserted her, her heart felt as though it was dead within
her. In that short half-hour she suffered more than many women do in
their whole lives. But the paroxysm passed, and she rose pale and
trembling, with set teeth and blazing eyes.
“He had better be careful,” she said to herself; “he may go, but if he
tries to marry Ida I will keep my word—yes, for her sake as well as
his.”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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