“How I hate the great world!” exclaimed Sara, with vehemence; “how I dislike the class which ambition, wealth, and pride separate from the rest of humanity! My only happiness now is found in solitude.”
“Your mother, dear Sara, had—or fancied so—this same desire to shun companionship and be alone. Her delicate health after our marriage made her fear society.”
“There are days when it seems an arena of wild beasts!”
“Nevertheless, my darling, at your age you must learn to live among your fellow creatures.”
“How can I live where I should be afraid to die?”
“Ought you to give way to these moods? Is it not mistaking the imagination for the soul? Young people do this, and you are very young—but two-and-twenty.”
“I am double-hearted,” said Sara; “and when one is double-hearted the tongue must utter contradictions. I like my advantages while I despise them. I wish to be thought exclusive, yet I condemn the pettiness of my ambition. And so on.”
“I fear,” said Lord Garrow gravely, “that your mind is disturbed by a question which you must soon—very soon, my dearest child—answer.”
“Papa, I cannot.”
“Surely you will gratify me so far as to take time before you object to what might possibly be most desirable.”