Artists -- Fiction; England -- Social life and customs -- 19th century -- Fiction; London (England) -- Fiction
But still, on him, her whole powers of loving stopped--spent, used-up.
Her devotion to him--inexplicable to herself--was spaniel-like in
its nature. She took his reproaches, his threats, at the last his
desertion, and loved him still. During the time they were together she
had temptation on every side; but not merely did she continue faithful,
but her fidelity was never shaken even in thought. Although in that
shady _demi-monde_ there is a queer kind of honour-code extant among
the Lovelaces and the Juans, far stricter than they think themselves
called upon to exercise when out of their own territory, there are of
course exceptions, who hold the temptation of their friend's mistress
but little less _piquante_ than the seduction of their friend's wife;
but none of these had the smallest chance with Margaret. What in such
circles is systematically known by the name of a _caprice_ never
entered her mind. Even at the last, when she found herself deserted,
penniless, she knew that a word would restore her to a position
equivalent, apparently, to that she had occupied; but she would not
have spoken that word to have saved her from the death which she was so
nearly meeting.
In those very jaws of death, from which she had just been rescued,
a new feeling dawned upon her. As she lay back in the arm-chair in
Flexor's parlour, dimly sounding in her ears, at first like the
monotonous surging of the waves, afterwards shaping itself into words,
but always calm and grave and kind, came Geoff's voice. She could
scarcely make out what was said, but she knew what was meant from the
modulation and the tone. Then, when Mr. Potts had gone to fetch Dr.
Rollit, she knew that she was left alone with the owner of the voice,
and she brought all her strength together to raise her eyelids and
look at him. She saw the quiet earnest face, she marked the intense
gaze, and she let her light fingers fall on the outstretched hand,
and muttered her "Bless you!--saved me!" with a gratitude which was
not merely an expression of grateful feeling for his rescuing her
from death, but partook more of the cynic's definition of the word--a
recognition of benefits to come.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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