Love stories; Nobility -- Great Britain -- Fiction; Switzerland -- Fiction
It is not necessary to follow the pitiful story to its inevitable end,
one, happily, more common at that time than it is to-day. Mr. Blake
played the earnest, ardent lover, and on all occasions proclaimed his
own unworthiness at the top of his loud voice. Also he hinted at large
settlements to the married sisters, who put the matter before Jane very
plainly indeed. In the end, after a few words with her father, who
pointed out that the provision which could be made for her was but
small, and that he would die more happily if he knew her to be
comfortably settled in life with a really trustworthy and generous man
such as Mr. Blake had proved himself to be, she gave way, and in due
course they were married.
In fact, the tragedy was complete, since Jane loathed her husband, whose
real nature she had read from the beginning, as much as she adored the
high-church curate from whom in some terrible hour she parted with
broken words. Even when he died a few years later, she continued to
adore him, so much that her one hope was that she might meet him again
in the land where there is no marrying or giving in marriage. But all
of this she kept locked in her poor little heart, and meanwhile did her
duty by her husband with an untroubled brow, though those mouse-like
eyes of hers grew ever more piteous.
He, for his part, did not do his duty by her. Of one side of his conduct
she was careless, being totally indifferent as to whom he admired.
Others she found it hard to bear. The man was by nature a bully, one
who found pleasure in oppressing the helpless, and who loved, in the
privacy of his home, to wreak the ill-temper which he was forced to
conceal abroad. In company, and especially before any of her people, he
treated her with the greatest deference, and would even make loud
laudatory remarks concerning her; when they were alone there was a
different tale to tell, particularly if she had in any way failed in
promoting that social advancement for which he had married her.
“What do you suppose I give you all those jewels and fine clothes for,
to say nothing of the money you waste in keeping up the house?” he
would ask brutally.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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