I do—I do—I feel what you have said though; I feel it sharply—it was like an arrow, or a knife—
Allow me to say—
No, no—excuse me—I know what you would say.
Her great resemblance to your wife, which everybody speaks of, and her beauty—
No, no, Matthew, no, no.... I cannot bear such talk.
Ah George!
Both my wives were very dear to me; but she of whom you speak, she whom you saw upon the bed of death in all her beauty—she who died before you, in all her beauty, her glorious beauty! but the other day as it were....
The other day, George?
—Died with her hand in yours but the other day, while I was afar off—she whom neither piety nor truth could save, nor faith nor prayer—she of whom you are already able to speak with a steady voice, and with a look of terrible composure—to me it is terrible Matthew she is too dear to me still, and her death too near, whatever you may suppose; you, her adopted father!—you, the witness of her marriage vow—you, the witness of her death—for me to endure it—O my God, my God—that such a woman should be no more in so short a time!
Dear George——