‘So I shall do so. Everything in the world to live for!—fame that he could not reap, love that he must not take! What was all this pother about hell as a future state? By and by things began to stir on the table: little invisible things. He swore that I was his wife, and—I shot him, Nigel, as his arms were closing around me. I told him that I was not ‘Alcide. My friend, I am only grieved that you of all others should have been so deceived. “Is that you, Nigel?” she asked. She was never able to trace the changes her attitude had undergone, from the time when she believed herself to be the pampered Queen of Fortune, the crown of a good man’s love (and secretly, but nobly, worshipping some one else), to the time when she realized she was in fact just a mannequin for her lover’s imagination, and that he cared no more for the realities of her being, for the things she felt and desired, for the passions and dreams that might move her, than a child cares for the sawdust in its doll. " "Well, that's a hopeful sign.
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