We, you and I, might
despise their creed, but how am I to shirk the claims of gratitude? I
owe everything to my uncle. He rescued my mother and me from dire
poverty. He gave us freely of his abundance. Would you have me fail
him now that he seeks my aid? Ah, me! If only I had never come on
this mad voyage! But it is too late to think of that now. Perhaps--if
I had not promised--I might steel my heart against him--but, Philip,
you would never think highly of me again if I were so ready to rend the
hand that fed me. We have had our hour, dear. Its memory will never
leave me. I shall think of you, dream of you, when, it may be, some
other girl--oh, no, I do not mean that! Philip, don't be angry with me
to-day. You are wringing my heart!"
It was in Hozier's mind to scoff in no measured terms at the absurd
theory that he should renounce his oft-won bride because a pair of
elderly gentlemen in Bootle had made a bargain in which she was staked
against so many bags of gold. But pity for her suffering joined forces
with a fine certainty that fortune would not play such a scurvy trick
as to rob him of his divinity after leading him through an Inferno to
the very gate of Paradise. For that is how he regarded the perils of
Fernando Noronha. He was young, and the ethics of youth cling to
romance.
Pages:
237
238
239
240
241
242
243
244
245
246
247
248
249
250
251
252
253
254
255
256
257
258
259
260
261