He had not learned then that all
dreams must yield to self-reverence and self-growth. As for
taking up this life of poverty and soul-starvation for the sake
of a little love, it would be an ignoble martyrdom, the sacrifice
of a grand unmeasured life to a shallow pleasure. He was no
longer a young man now; he had no time to waste. Poor Margret!
he wondered if it hurt her?
He signed the deed, and left it in the slow, quiet way natural to
him, and after a while stooped to pat the dog softly, who was
trying to lick his hand,--with the hard fingers shaking a little,
and a smothered fierceness in the half-closed eye, like a man who
is tortured and alone.
There is a miserable drama acted in other homes than the
Tuileries, when men have found a woman's heart in their way to
success, and trampled it down under an iron heel. Men like
Napoleon must live out the law of their natures, I suppose,--on a
throne, or in a mill.
So many trifles that day roused the undercurrent of old thoughts
and old hopes that taunted him,--trifles, too, that he would not
have heeded at another time. Pike came in on business, a bunch
of bills in his hand. A wily, keen eye he had, looking over
them,--a lean face, emphasized only by cunning. No wonder Dr.
Knowles cursed him for a "slippery customer," and was cheated by
him the next hour. While he and Holmes were counting out the
bills, a little white-headed girl crept shyly in at the door, and
came up to the table,--oddly dressed, in a frock fastened with
great horn buttons, and with an old-fashioned anxious pair of
eyes, the color of blue Delft.
Pages:
96
97
98
99
100
101
102
103
104
105
106
107
108
109
110
111
112
113
114
115
116
117
118
119
120