A moment's reflection, hereupon, satisfied him of the identity
of the lady. He had been unjust to poor Assunta, sitting patient in the
gloomy arena; she had not come on her own errand. Rowland's discoveries
made him hesitate. Should he retire as noiselessly as possible, or
should he call out a friendly good morning? While he was debating the
question, he found himself distinctly hearing his friends' words. They
were of such a nature as to make him unwilling to retreat, and yet
to make it awkward to be discovered in a position where it would be
apparent that he had heard them.
"If what you say is true," said Christina, with her usual soft
deliberateness--it made her words rise with peculiar distinctness to
Rowland's ear--"you are simply weak. I am sorry! I hoped--I really
believed--you were not."
"No, I am not weak," answered Roderick, with vehemence; "I maintain that
I am not weak! I am incomplete, perhaps; but I can't help that. Weakness
is a man's own fault!"
"Incomplete, then!" said Christina, with a laugh. "It 's the same thing,
so long as it keeps you from splendid achievement.
Pages:
298
299
300
301
302
303
304
305
306
307
308
309
310
311
312
313
314
315
316
317
318
319
320
321
322