But this was not so with Edward Cossey. Ida's coldness excited
upon his tenacious and obstinate mind much the same effect that may be
supposed to be produced upon the benighted seeker for the North Pole
by the sight of a frozen ocean of icebergs. Like the explorer he was
convinced that if once he could get over those cold heights he would
find a smiling sunny land beyond and perchance many other delights,
and like the explorer again, he was, metaphorically, ready to die in
the effort. For he loved her more every day, till now his passion
dominated his physical being and his mental judgment, so that whatever
loss was entailed, and whatever obstacles arose, he was determined to
endure and overcome them if by so doing he might gain his end.
He was reflecting upon all this on the morning in question when Mr.
Quest, looking very cool, composed and gentlemanlike, was shown into
his room, much as Colonel Quaritch had been shown in two mornings
before.
"How do you do, Quest?" he said, in a from high to low tone, which he
was in the habit of adopting towards his official subordinates. "Sit
down. What is it?"
"It is some business, Mr. Cossey," the lawyer answered in his usual
quiet tones.
"Honham Castle mortgages again, I suppose," he growled.
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