Lady Cassandra - Mrs. George de Horne Vaizey

“Oh, of all the things that might have happened to me, this was the last that I expected—to have come through so much,—to have loved, and been loved, to have fought and won, and to be left with—Nothing! No change, no difference. That seems just the hardest ending of all! If there had been a big upheaval, and outside things had changed to match, even if it had been for the worse, it would be easier than to go back,—a woman whose whole nature has been revolutionised,—and fit oneself into the same narrow groove, knowing that the page is turned for ever, and that there is no more hope.”

“You are thirty-two, Cassandra,” Grizel said a third time. “No pages are turned for ever at thirty-two.”

“But, oh, Grizel, Grizel, when you read of these things happening to people in books, there is always Something tangible to take hold of... It may be tragedy, or it may be joy, but at least there is Something to mark the difference, and I have nothing, but a memory which I must try to kill... There’s no poetry in it, Grizel, there’s no romance. It isn’t even—fair!”

“No,” sighed Grizel softly. “It’s just—Life!”

The End.