"Because for many years it has been the desire of my life that we
should be friends again"
"That is impossible."
"Why so? Not if you will allow it."
"I will not allow it!" said Catherine.
He looked at her again in silence. "I see; my presence troubles you
and pains you. I will go away; but you must give me leave to come
again."
"Please don't come again," she said.
"Never?--never?"
She made a great effort; she wished to say something that would make
it impossible he should ever again cross her threshold. "It is wrong
of you. There is no propriety in it--no reason for it."
"Ah, dearest lady, you do me injustice!" cried Morris Townsend. "We
have only waited, and now we are free."
"You treated me badly," said Catherine.
"Not if you think of it rightly. You had your quiet life with your
father--which was just what I could not make up my mind to rob you
of."
"Yes; I had that."
Morris felt it to be a considerable damage to his cause that he could
not add that she had had something more besides; for it is needless
to say that he had learnt the contents of Dr. Sloper's will. He was
nevertheless not at a loss. "There are worse fates than that!" he
exclaimed, with expression; and he might have been supposed to refer
to his own unprotected situation. Then he added, with a deeper
tenderness, "Catherine, have you never forgiven me?"
"I forgave you years ago, but it is useless for us to attempt to be
friends.
Pages:
240
241
242
243
244
245
246
247
248
249
250
251
252
253
254