Later--later, perhaps, when I was calmer, when some
of the injury had been repaired, when a spark of hope had been
rekindled; then, if he asked, but now--The days before me stretched
such a bitter, hopeless blank! And how did I know that his act could
ever be nullified! It might so turn out that now I never should
accomplish my end.
My health had worn thin and my brain was tired out. Either might
give way, and then--a life blasted through him! Brute and devil!
that was what he had wished, and was perhaps wishing still, even
now, when he professed to be so anxious for forgiveness. I glanced
towards his face opposite me, but it was too dark to see its
expression. A slight, steady drizzle fell between us; I only saw his
slight figure before me in the uncertain light, and again something
urged me.
Take your revenge now while you can get it. This man may have
spoiled all your life, but when you realise it, then he may be away
and out of your power. Thrash him! Half kill him now while you have
the chance! But I did not stir. Vengeance has always seemed to me a
poor thing. Supposing . . . After? . . . If I satiated my rage then,
what after. I should have two things to regret instead of one. No.
Let him go with his vile act upon his head.
But forgive? I could not. He had taken the inside, the best of my
life, and I hated, purely hated him.
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