All within my brain was
merged into one hot, clinging haze, in which still loomed the idea
that I must not yield. It would be dishonourable to my father,
disappointing to myself, destructive to my work. I could not realise
it then, could not see it, but I knew and remembered in a dim way
that it was so, that it had been so decided, and I must adhere to
it.
"It is impossible, Lucia."
"Why?"
"Because I promised my father we should not marry until I had got
out some book."
"But rescind the promise! Say that you cannot carry it out! Give up
all help from him, and let us live our lives apart!"
"I have no means to do it with."
"You can make them! Surely with all your knowledge you can get some
ordinary work to do till you can get your works out!"
"Even if I had the means I could not, after the understanding
between us, after all he has done for me, throw him over at a
moment's notice."
"He has no right to ask such a sacrifice!"
"It has all been thought out," I said dully, "and settled before. I
can't re-argue it all now. I decided it finally before I left
England, and I am in the same position now as I was then."
A scarlet colour stole into the rose glow on Lucia's face.
"You don't care for me, Victor!" she said passionately. "You can't!
No man could and speak so!" and she threw my hand from her and
herself into the long chair in a sudden, wild storm of excited
tears.
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