"
"Ah, Edith Colleton, these words would have saved me once--now they are
nothing, in recompense for the hopes which are for ever gone. Your
thoughts are gentle, and may sooth all spirits but my own. But sounds
that lull others, lull me no longer. It is not the music of a rich
dream, or of a pleasant fancy, which may beguile me into pleasure. I am
dead--dead as the cold rock--to their influence. The storm which
blighted me has seared, and ate into the very core. I am like the tree
through which the worm has travelled--it still stands, and there is
foliage upon it, but the heart is eaten out and gone. Your words touch
me no longer as they did--I need something more than words and mere
flatteries--flatteries so sweet even as those which come from your
lips--are no longer powerful to bind me to your service. I can save the
youth--I will save him, though I hate him; but the conditions are fatal
to your love for him."
There was much in this speech to offend and annoy the hearer; but she
steeled herself to listen, and it cost her some effort to reply.
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