The Mystery of the LocksHowe, E. W. (Edgar Watson)
General
The Mystery of the Locks
Howe, E. W. (Edgar Watson)
City and town life -- Fiction; Man-woman relationships -- Fiction; Mystery fiction; Nebraska -- Fiction
"It pains me to know that you regret this announcement," Dorris said,
after looking at her a moment, "though it would pain me more to believe
that you did not. It seems to be always so; there is sorrow in
everything for me. I have cursed myself a thousand times for this
quality, and thought ill of a nature which had no peace or content in
it. I have hated myself for years because of the belief that nothing
would satisfy me; that I would tire of everything I coveted, and that I
was born a misanthrope and an embodied unrest. When I have envied others
their content, I have always concluded afterwards that there was
something in my nature opposed to peace, and that I was doomed to a
restless life, always seeking that which could not be found. I have
always believed that my acquaintances have had this opinion of me, and
that for this reason they did not grant me the charity I felt the need
of. But now that I am going away, and will never see you again, I hope
you will pardon my saying that your absence has been the cause of the
unrest which has always beset me. Long before I knew you existed I was
looking for you; and I know now that all my discontent would have
vanished had I been free to make honorable love to you when we first
met. In our weakness we are permitted to know a few things; I know this
to be true."
"Since you have always wished me to take no interest in this
acquaintance of ours," Annie Benton replied, in a tone which might have
been only sullen, but it sounded very much like the voice of an earnest
woman expressing vexation and regret, "let me at least express in words
what I have often expressed in my actions--that I would have long ago
shown you that your affection was returned; that you are not more
concerned than I am. I have always been in doubt as to what my course
should be; but let me say this, in justice to my intelligence, though it
be a discredit to my womanhood, you can never love me more than I do
you. Nor do you more sincerely regret the necessity which you say exists
for your going away."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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