Were it not for my love, my passion for Catherine, were it not for the deep interest her child inspires in me, this imperious obligation to remain ever at Irene's side would be both painful and embarrassing.
But I worship her mother! When I compare other passions which I have experienced to that which she inspires, I find this the truest of all; and, seeing her daily, brought near her by the most startling and mysterious circumstances, most apt to bring the most passive love to a point of exaltation, I still must be silent; Catherine for me must be sacred as a sister, as a friend!
Can I, in the name of my past devotedness, in the name of the fatal influence I exercise over Irene, approach Catherine, professing my love, and expressing my hopes?
It would be base, it would be despicable.
And if the unhappy mother were to think—oh, Heaven!—that I demanded her love as the price for my presence near her child!
Ah, this thought is horrible!
My resolution is taken, irrevocably taken.
Never shall a word of love pass my lips.
THE GROVE, 11th May, 18—.
My best deeds bring me bad luck,—one reason the more for keeping silent.