The Doctor's Wife: A NovelBraddon, M. E. (Mary Elizabeth)
General
The Doctor's Wife: A Novel
Braddon, M. E. (Mary Elizabeth)
Adultery -- Fiction; Great Britain -- Fiction; Middle class -- Fiction; Physicians' spouses -- Fiction
There is not a whim or fancy of yours that I have not remembered.
Ah, what happiness! to show you wonderful things and beautiful scenes!
What delicious joy to see your eyes open their widest before all the
fairest pictures of earth! I fancy you with me, Isabel, and, behold, my
life is transformed. I have been so tired of everything in the world;
and yet, with you by my side, all the world will be as fresh as Eden was
to Adam on the first day of his life. Isabel, you need have no doubt of
me. I have doubted myself, and tested myself. Mine is no light love,
that time or custom can change or lessen: if it were, I would have done
my duty, and stayed away from you for ever. I have thought of your
happiness as well as my own, darling; and I ask you now to trust me, and
leave this place for ever."
Something like a cry of despair broke from Isabel's lips. "You ask me to
go away with you!" she exclaimed, looking at Roland as if she could
scarcely believe the testimony of her own ears. "You ask me to leave
George, and be your--mistress! Oh, Lady Gwendoline only spoke the truth,
then. You don't understand--no one understands--how I love you!"
She had risen as she spoke, and flung herself passionately against the
balustrade of the bridge, sobbing bitterly, with her face hidden by her
clasped hands.
"Isabel, for Heaven's sake, listen to me! Can you doubt the purity of my
love--the truth, the honesty of my intentions? I ask you to sign no
unequal compact. Give me your life, and I'll give you mine in
exchange--every day--every hour. Whatever the most exacting wife can
claim of her husband, you shall receive from me. Whatever the truest
husband can be to his wife, I swear to be to you. It is only a question
of whether you love me, Isabel. You have only to choose between me and
that man yonder."
"Oh, Roland! Roland! I have loved you so--and you could think that
I----. Oh, you must despise me--you must despise me very much, and think
me very wicked, or you would never----"
She couldn't say any more; but she still leant against the bridge,
sobbing for her lost delusion.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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