And yet her whole soul revolted from the act with an
overwhelming fierceness which astonished even herself. She had known
two girls who had married people whom they did not like, being at the
time, or pretending to be, attached to somebody else, and she had
observed that they accommodated themselves to their fate with
considerable ease. But it was not so with her; she was fashioned of
another clay, and it made her faint to think of what was before her.
And yet the prospect was one on which she could expect little
sympathy. Her own father, although personally he disliked the man whom
she must marry, was clearly filled with amazement that she should
prefer Colonel Quaritch, middle-aged, poor, and plain, to Edward
Cossey--handsome, young, and rich as Croesus. He could not comprehend
or measure the extraordinary gulf which her love dug between the two.
If, therefore, this was so with her own father, how would it be with
the rest of the world?
She paced her bedroom till she was tired; then, in an access of
despair, which was sufficiently distressing in a person of her
reserved and stately manner, flung herself, weeping and sobbing, upon
her knees, and resting her aching head upon the bed, prayed as she had
never prayed before that this cup might pass from her.
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