It nearly broke my heart to dispel her delusion,
and to bring her face to face with the hard truth. I was obliged
to tell her that no man tolerates a rival--not even a woman rival--
in his wife's affections, when he first marries, whatever he may
do afterwards. I was obliged to warn her that my chance of living
with her permanently under her own roof, depended entirely on my
not arousing Sir Percival's jealousy and distrust by standing
between them at the beginning of their marriage, in the position
of the chosen depositary of his wife's closest secrets. Drop by
drop I poured the profaning bitterness of this world's wisdom into
that pure heart and that innocent mind, while every higher and
better feeling within me recoiled from my miserable task. It is
over now. She has learnt her hard, her inevitable lesson. The
simple illusions of her girlhood are gone, and my hand has
stripped them off. Better mine than his--that is all my
consolation--better mine than his.
So the first proposal is the proposal accepted. They are to go to
Italy, and I am to arrange, with Sir Percival's permission, for
meeting them and staying with them when they return to England.
In other words, I am to ask a personal favour, for the first time
in my life, and to ask it of the man of all others to whom I least
desire to owe a serious obligation of any kind.
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