Too
sure of her unaltering attachment to have any pretext for jealousy, he
found it exceedingly irksome to be obliged to avoid giving cause for
it on his side, which, however, he dreaded doing lest he should
thereby bring about some overwhelming catastrophe. Mrs. Quest was, as
he well knew, not a woman who would pause to consider consequences if
once her passionate jealousy were really aroused. It was even doubtful
if the certainty of her own ruin would check her. Her love was
everything to her, it was her life, the thing she lived for, and
rather than tamely lose it, it seemed extremely probable to Edward
Cossey that she would not hesitate to face shame, or even death.
Indeed it was through this great passion of hers, and through it only,
that he could hope to influence her. If he could persuade her to
release him, by pointing out that a continuance of the intrigue must
involve him in ruin of some sort, all might yet go well with him. If
not his future was a dark one.
This was the state of affairs before he became attached to Ida de la
Molle, after which the horizon grew blacker than ever. At first he
tried to get out of the difficulty by avoiding Ida, but it did not
answer. She exercised an irresistible attraction over him. Her calm
and stately presence was to him what the sight of mountain snows is to
one scorched by continual heat.
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