The self-esteem which produced these developments of jealousy, in

my own home, was not unexercised abroad. The same exacting nature

was busy among my friends and mere acquaintance. Of these I had

but few; to these I could be devoted; for these I could toil; for

these I could freely have perished! But I demanded nothing less from

them. Of their consideration and regard I was equally uxorious as

I was of the affections of my wife. I was an INTENSIFIER in all my

relations, and was not willing to divide or share my sympathies.

I became suspicious when I found any of my acquaintance forming

new intimacies, and sunk into reserves which necessarily produced

a severance of the old ties between us. It naturally followed that

my few friends became fewer, and I finally stood alone. But enough

of self-analysis, which, in truth, owes its origin to the very

same mental quality which I have been discussing--the presence and

prevalence of EGOISME. Let us hurry our progress.

My wife advised me of the visit which William Edgerton had proposed

to the picture collection.

"I will go," she said, "if you will."

"You must go without me."

"Ah, why? Surely, you can go one morning?"

"Impossible. The morning is the time for business. THAT must be

attended to, you know."

"But you needn't slave yourself at it because it is business,

Edward. But that I know that you are not a money-loving man, I should

suppose, sometimes, from the continual plea of business, that you

were a miser, and delighted in filling old stockings to hide away

in holes and chinks of the wall. Come, now, Saturday is not usually

a busy day with you lawyers; steal it this once and go with us. I

lose half the pleasure of the sight always, when you are not with

me, and when I know that you are engaged in working for me elsewhere."

"Ah, you mistake, Julia. You shall not flatter me into such a faith.

You lose precious little by my absence."

"But, Edward, I do; believe me--it is true."

"Impossible! No, no, Julia, when you look on the Carlo Dolce and

the Guido, you will forget not only the toils of the husband, but

that you have one at all. You will forget my harsh features in the

contemplation of softer ones."

"Your features are not harsh ones, Edward."

"Nay, you shall not persuade me that I am not an Orson--a very wild

man of the woods. I know I am. I know that I have harsh features;

nay, I fancy you know it too, by this time, Julia."

"I admit the sternness at times, Edward, but I deny the harshness.

Besides, sternness, you know, is perfectly compatible with the

possession of the highest human beauty. I am not sure that a certain

portion of sternness is not absolutely necessary to manly beauty.

It seems to me that I have never yet seen what I call a handsome

man, whose features had not a certain sweet gravity, a sort of

melancholy defiance, in them which neutralized the effect of any

effeminacy which mere beauty must have had; and imparted to them

a degree of character which compelled you to turn again and look,

and made you remember them, even when they had disappeared from

sight. Now, it may be the vanity of a wife, Edward, but it seems

to me that this is the very sort of face which you possess."




readonlinefreebook.com Copyright 2016 - 2024