he cannot be supposed to have kept up an appearance of
old regard to me, from a fear of hurting my feelings by her desertion;
for she not only shewed herself indifferent to, but evidently triumphed
in my sufferings, and heaped every kind of insult and indignity upon
them. I must have incurred her contempt and resentment by my mistaken
delicacy at different times; and her manner, when I have hinted at
becoming a reformed man in this respect, convinces me of it. "She hated
it!" She always hated whatever she liked most. She "hated Mr. C----'s
red slippers," when he first came! One more count finishes the
indictment. She not only discovered the most hardened indifference to
the feelings of others; she has not shewn the least regard to her own
character, or shame when she was detected. When found out, she seemed
to say, "Well, what if I am? I have played the game as long as I could;
and if I could keep it up no longer, it was not for want of good will!"
Her colouring once or twice is the only sign of grace she has exhibited.
Such is the creature on whom I had thrown away my heart and soul-one
who was incapable of feeling the commonest emotions of human nature, as
they regarded herself or any one else. "She had no feelings with
respect to herself," she often said. She in fact knows what she is, and
recoils from the good opinion or sympathy of others, which she feels to
be founded on a deception; so that my overweening opinion of her must
have appeared like irony, or direct insult. My seeing her in the street
has gone a good way to satisfy me. Her manner there explains her manner
in-doors to be conscious and overdone; and besides, she looks but
indifferently. She is diminutive in stature, and her measured step and
timid air do not suit these public airings. I am afraid she will soon
grow common to my imagination, as well as worthless in herself. Her
image seems fast "going into the wastes of time," like a weed that the
wave bears farther and farther from me. Alas! thou poor hapless weed,
when I entirely lose sight of thee, and for ever, no flower will ever
bloom on earth to glad my heart again!

End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Liber Amoris, or, The New Pygmalion, by
William Hazlitt

*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK LIBER AMORIS, NEW PYGMALION ***

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