He must
love her as a woman also, and he had loved what he imagined Stella
Wildmere to be. Now he felt, however, like a lapidary who, while
gloating over a precious stone, is suddenly shown that it is worthless
paste. He may have valued it highly an hour before; now he throws it
away in angry disgust. But this simile only in part explains Graydon's
feelings. He not only recognized Miss Wildmere's mercenary character
and selfish spirit, but also the power she would have had to thwart
his life and alienate him from his brother and Madge. While she was
not the pearl for which he might give all, she could easily have
become the active poison of his life.
"Oh," he thought, "how blessed is this content with sweet sister
Madge--sister in spite of all she says--compared with brief, feverish
pleasure in an engagement with such a sham of a woman, or the mad
chaos of financial disaster which my suit might have brought about!"
and he unconsciously gave a profound sigh of satisfaction.
"Oh, Graydon, what a sigh!" Madge exclaimed. "Is your regret so great?
You were indeed thinking very deeply."
"So were you, Madge--so you have been during the last half hour. My
sigh was one of boundless relief and gratitude.
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