"
So, by the end of May, they were back in the little brick cottage again,
and the two capable servants were there, too, for there must be no
danger, now, of Sylvia's getting over-tired. Those were days when Austin
seldom left his wife for long if he could help it; found it hard, indeed,
not to watch her constantly, and to keep the expression of anxiety and
dread from his eyes. He had not proved to be among those men, who, as
some French cynic, more clever than wise, has expressed it, find "the
chase the best part of the game." His engagement had been a period
containing much joy, it is true, but also, much doubt, much
self-adjusting and repression--his marriage had not held one imperfect
hour. Sylvia, as his wife, with all the petty barriers which social
inequality and money and restraint had reared between them broken down by
the very weight of their love, was a being even much more desired and
hallowed than the pale, black-robed, unattainable lady of his first
worship had been; that Sylvia should suffer, because of him, was
horrible; that he might possibly lose her altogether was a fear which
grew as the days went on.
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