was not allowed by her to interfere for a moment with the fact that
she and Walter were intended, each to be the companion of the other,
as long as they two might live.
Then by degrees,--by degrees, though the process had been quick,--had
fallen upon her that other conviction, that it was her duty to him
to save him from the burdens of that life to which she herself had
looked forward so fondly. At first she had said that he should judge
of the necessity; swearing to herself that his judgment, let it be
what it might, should be right to her. Then she had perceived that
this was not sufficient;--that in this way there would be no escape
for him;--that she herself must make the decision, and proclaim
it. Very tenderly and very cautiously had she gone about her task;
feeling her way to the fact that this separation, if it came from
her, would be deemed expedient by him. That she would be right in all
this, was her great resolve; that she might after all be wrong, her
constant fear. She, too, had heard of public censors, of the girl of
the period, and of the forward indelicacy with which women of the
age were charged. She knew not why, but it seemed to her that the
laws of the world around her demanded more of such rectitude from
a woman than from a man, and, if it might be possible to her, she
would comply with these laws. She had convinced herself, forming her
judgment from every tone of his voice, from every glance of his eye,
from every word that fell from his lips, that this separation would
be expedient for him. And then, assuring herself that the task should
be hers, and not his, she had done it. She had done it, and, counting
up the cost afterwards, she had found herself to be broken in pieces.
That wholeness and roundness, in which she had rejoiced, had gone
from her altogether. She would try to persuade herself that she could
live as her aunt had lived, and yet be whole and round. She tried,
but knew that she failed. The life to which she had looked forward
had been the life of a married woman; and now, as that was taken from
her, she could be but a thing broken, a fragment of humanity, created
for use, but never to be used.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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