my enjoyment in defying them to make me despair! But I can’t do without your help. I didn’t feel very cheerful as I sat here a while ago, before you came down; I was almost afraid to go upstairs, lest the sight of what you were suffering should be too much for me. Am I to ask a kindness of you and be refused, Clara?”
It was not the first time that she had experienced the constraining power of his words when he was moved with passionate earnestness. Her desire to escape was due to a fear of yielding, of suffering her egotism to fail before a stronger will.
“Let me go,” she said, whilst he held her arm. “I feel too ill to talk longer.”
“Only one word—only one promise—now whilst we are the only ones awake in the house. We are husband and wife, Clara, and we must be kind to each other. We are not going to be like the poor creatures who let their misery degrade them. We are both too proud for that—what? We can think and express our thoughts; we can speak to each other’s minds and hearts. Don’t let us be beaten!”
“What’s the good of my promising? I can’t keep it. I suffer too much.”
