"Why not? Because your grandfather had an intrigue with her
grandmother?--which, by the way, is by no means clearly proved. That
there was a plan on foot to that end the letters pretty well show,
but--"
"I don't care a hang about the sins of my ancestors, or of Weir's
either--if that were all. If I do not marry her it will be because I
do not care to shatter an ideal into still smaller bits. I loved her
with what little good was left in me. I placed her on a pedestal and
rejoiced that I was able so to do. Now she is the woman whose guilty
love sent us both to our death. I could never forget it. There would
always be a spot on the sun."
"My God, Harold," exclaimed Hollington, "you _are_ mad. Of all the
insane, ridiculous, idiotic speeches that ever came from man's lips,
that is the worst."
"I can't help it, Becky. The idea, the knowledge, is my very life and
soul; and when you think it all over you will see that there are many
things that cannot be explained--Weir's words in the gallery, for
instance. They coincide exactly with the vision I had four nights
later.
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