'
'Yes.' She spoke mechanically.
'But if only it should come to something! You don't know what it
would mean to me, Marian.'
'Yes, father; I know very well how you think and feel about it.'
'Do you?' He leaned forward, his features working under stress of
emotion. 'If I could see myself the editor of an influential
review, all my bygone toils and sufferings would be as nothing; I
should rejoice in them as the steps to this triumph. Meminisse
juvabit! My dear, I am not a man fitted for subordinate places.
My nature is framed for authority. The failure of all my
undertakings rankles so in my heart that sometimes I feel capable
of every brutality, every meanness, every hateful cruelty. To you
I have behaved shamefully. Don't interrupt me, Marian. I have
treated you abominably, my child, my dear daughter--and all the
time with a full sense of what I was doing. That's the punishment
of faults such as mine. I hate myself for every harsh word and
angry look I have given you; at the time, I hated myself!'
'Father--'
'No, no; let me speak, Marian. You have forgiven me; I know it.
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