What must
she think of him, then?
At this very moment he would have given his right arm for a word
of real affection from Mrs. Lee. He adored her. He would willingly
enough have damned himself for her. There was no sacrifice he
would not have made to bring her nearer to him. In his upright,
quiet, simple kind of way, he immolated himself before her. For
months his heart had ached with this hopeless passion. He
recognized that it was hopeless. He knew that she would never
love him, and, to do her justice, she never had given him reason to
suppose that it was in her power to love him, r any man. And here
he stood, obliged to appear ungrateful and prejudiced, mean and
vindictive, in her eyes. He took his seat again, looking so
unutterably dejected, his patient face so tragically mournful, that
Madeleine, after a while, began to see the absurd side of the
matter, and presently burst into a laugh "Please do not look so
frightfully miserable!" said she; "I did not mean to make you
unhappy. After all, what does it matter? You have a perfect right to
refuse, and, for my part, I have not the least wish to see you
accept."
On this, Carrington brightened, and declared that if she thought
him right in declining, he cared for nothing else. It was only the
idea of hurting her feelings that weighed on his mind. But in
saying this, he spoke in a tone that implied a deeper feeling, and
made Mrs. Lee again look grave and sigh.
"Ah, Mr. Carrington," she said, "this world will not run as we
want.
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