Only if you had also pitied the deeper
anguish of my heart, I should thank you more still. As it is, I forgive
you for the share you have had in blasting my happiness for life; and
nobody shall ever know what you have been mad enough in an unguarded
moment to say; but for pity's sake talk no more of love, to mock my
misery."
Mrs. Archbold was white with ire long before he had done this sentence.
"You insolent creature," said she; "you spurn my love; you shall feel my
hate."
"So I conclude," said he coldly: "such love as yours is hard by hate."
"It is," said she: "and I know how I'll combine the two. To-day I loved
you, and you spurned me; ere long you shall love me and I'll despise you;
and not spurn you."
"I don't understand you," said Alfred, feeling rather uneasy.
"What," said she, "don't you see how the superior mind can fascinate the
inferior? Look at Frank Beverley--how he follows you about and fawns on
you like a little dog."
"I prefer his sort of affection to yours."
"A gentleman and a man would have kept that to himself; but you are
neither one nor the other; or you would have taken my offer, and then run
away from me the next day, you fool.
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