Man-woman relationships -- Fiction; Mothers and daughters -- Fiction; Young women -- Fiction
Immediately after the funeral she returned to her mother’s cottage, but
before she went Col. Schuyler asked for a private interview, which she
granted with a feeling that it was of no use to struggle against what
was inevitable. Col. Schuyler had tried to forget her during his
travels; had tried to reason with himself that a poor unknown girl, who
was his sister’s hired companion, was not a fitting match for a Schuyler
whose first wife had been a Rossiter. But one thought of the beautiful
face, and of the sweet voice which had sung to him in the twilight was
sufficient to break down every barrier of pride and make him willing to
sacrifice a great deal for the sake of securing her. And so it was that
on his return to England he was resolved to renew the offer once made
and rejected, and to take no refusal this time. His sister approved his
choice, and had sanctioned it with her dying breath, and thus reassured
he went to Edith with a feeling of security as to the result of the
interview, which manifested itself somewhat in his manner, and made
Edith feel more and more how helpless she was, and how certain it was
that her secret must be told.
“Edith,” he began in his stiff way, as he took a seat beside her, “just
before I left Oakwood last August, I held a conversation with you which
I know you have not forgotten. I asked you to be my wife, and you asked
me if I loved you. I could not say yes, then, for though I admired and
respected, and wanted you, I did not experience any of those ecstatic
thrills of which we read in books, and which very young people call
love. And even now,”—he paused a moment and hesitated, and a flush
spread itself over his face, “even now I may not feel as a younger man
would in similar circumstances; but when I tell you that you have
scarcely been out of my mind for a moment during my absence, that I have
dreamed of you night and day, and that in all the world there is nothing
I desire so much as I desire you, I think you will be satisfied that if
I do not love you as you have imagined you might be loved, I am in a
fair way to do so, if I receive a little encouragement.”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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