Either motive, would, I know, inspire me
to write most pathetic verses! Now you bend your charming brows at
me,--mea culpa! I have said something outrageous?"
"Not from the point of view at which YOU take life," said Angela
quietly, "but I was just then thinking of a cousin of mine,--a very
beautiful woman; her husband treated her with every possible sort of
what I should term civil cruelty,--polite torture--refined agony. If
he had struck her or shot her dead it would have been far kinder.
But his conduct was worse than murder. He finally deserted her, and
left her penniless to fight her own way through the world. Then he
died suddenly, and she forgot all his faults, spoke of him as though
he had been a model of goodness, and lives now for his memory, ever
mourning his loss. In her case the feeling of regret had nothing to
do with money, for he spent all her fortune and left her nothing
even of her own. She has to work hard for her living now,--but she
loves him and is as true to him as if he were still alive. What do
you say to that?"
"I say that the lady in question must be a charming person!" replied
the Abbe, "Perfectly charming! But of course she is deceiving
herself; and she takes pleasure in the self-deception.
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