He had planned it
all, that the blow might not kill me. He wrote to tell me he was a ruined
man, and he was too proud to let me support him: he begged my pardon for
his love, for his desertion, for ever having crossed my brilliant path
like a dark cloud. He praised me, he thanked me, he blessed me; but he
left me. It was a beautiful letter, but it was the death-warrant of my
heart. I was abandoned."
Ashmead started up and walked very briskly, with a great appearance of
business requiring vast dispatch, to the other end of the _salle;_ and
there, being out of Ina's hearing, he spoke his mind to a candlestick
with three branches. "D--n him! Heartless, sentimental scoundrel! D--n
him! D--n him!"
Having relieved his mind with this pious ejaculation, he returned to Ina
at a reasonable pace and much relieved, and was now enabled to say,
cheerfully, "Let us take a business view of it. He is gone--gone of his
own accord. Give him your blessing--I have given him mine--and forget
him."
"Forget him! Never while I live. Is that your advice? Oh, Mr. Ashmead!
And the moment I saw your friendly face, I said to myself, 'I am no
longer alone: here is one that will help me.
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