Inheritance and succession -- Fiction; Love stories; Somerset (England) -- Fiction
"I'm not so sure of that, Mary. Her education has been different from
mine, and it may well be that she should marry above me. But I swear
I will not speak another word to you to-night. To-morrow, if you're
well enough, I'll talk to you all day." Soon after that he did get
her to go up to her room, though, of course, he broke that oath of
his as to not speaking another word. After that he walked out by
moonlight round the house, wandering about the garden and farmyard,
and down through the avenue, having in his own mind some pretence of
the watchfulness of ownership, but thinking little of his property
and much of his love. Here was a thing that he desired with all his
heart, but it seemed to be out of his reach,--absolutely out of his
reach. He was sick and weary with a feeling of longing,--sick with
that covetousness wherewith Ahab coveted the vineyard of Naboth. What
was the world to him if he could not have this thing on which he had
set his heart? He had told his sister that he would not break his
heart; and so much, he did not doubt, would be true. A man or woman
with a broken heart was in his estimation a man or woman who should
die of love; and he did not look for such a fate as that. But he
experienced the palpable misery of a craving emptiness within his
breast, and did believe of himself that he never could again be in
comfort unless he could succeed with Clara Amedroz. He stood leaning
against one of the trees, striking his hands together, and angry with
himself at the weakness which had reduced him to such a state. What
could any man be worth who was so little master of himself as he had
now become?
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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