“There is no flattery in the portrait; nay, it wants the great charm she excelled in,—that ever changeful look as thoughts of joy or sadness would flash across her.”
“Good Heavens!” cried Stocmar. “How hard it is to connect this creature, as she looks here, with such a story!”
“Ah, my friend, these have been the cruel ones, from the earliest time we hear of. The more intensely they are womanly, the more unrelenting their nature.”
“And what do you mean to do, Ludlow? for I own to you I think she is a hard adversary to cope with.”
“I' ll marry her, if she 'll have me.”
“Have you? Of course she will.”
“She says not; and she generally keeps her word.”
“But why should you wish to marry her, Ludlow? You have already told me that you know nothing of her means, or how she lives; and, certainly, the memories of the past give small guarantee for the future. As for myself, I own to you, if there was not another woman—”
“Nay, nay,” broke in Paten, “you have never seen her,—never spoken to her.”
“You forget, my dear fellow, that I have passed a life in an atmosphere of mock fascinations; that tinsel attractions and counterfeit graces would all fail with me.”