coldness, bickering, ingratitude, from the one for whom—Oh, ass that I was! I gave up the most cherished part of my nature, rather my nature itself! Two years I have borne this, and now will I have my revenge,—I will sell her—sell her—God! I will sell her like the commonest beast of a market! And this paltry piece of false coin shall buy me—my world! Other men's vengeance comes from hatred—a base, rash, unphilosophical sentiment! mine comes from scorn! the only wise state for the reason to rest in. Other men's vengeance ruins themselves—mine shall save me! Christ!—how my soul chuckles when I look at this pitiful pair, who think I see them not, and know that every movement they make is on a mesh of my web!—Yet," and Welford paused slowly,—"yet I cannot but mock myself when I think of the arch gull that this boy's madness love,—love, indeed!—the very word turns me sick with loathing,—made of me. Had that woman, silly, weak, automatal as she is, really loved me,—had she been sensible of the unspeakable sacrifice I had made to her—(Anthony's was nothing to it—he lost a real world
