been living
in a sort of dream, and my awaking is no less decisive than yours. At
your instigation, I behaved dishonestly; I am very much ashamed of the
recollection. Happily, I see my way to atone for the follies, and
worse, that I committed. I can carry out Lady Ogram's wishes--the
wishes she formed while still in her sound mind--and to that I shall
devote my life."
"Do you intend, then, to apply none of this money to your personal use?
Do you mean to earn your own living still?"
"That would defeat Lady Ogram's purpose," was the calm answer. "I shall
live where and how it seems good to me, guided always by the intention
which I know was in her mind."
Dyce sat with his head bent forward, his hands grasping his knees.
After what seemed to be profound reflection, he said gravely:
"This is how you think to-day. I won't be so unjust to you as to take
it for your final reply."
"Yet that's what it is," answered Constance.
"You think so. The sudden possession of wealth has disturbed your mind.
If I took you at your word," he spoke with measured accent, "I should
be guilty of behaviour much more dishonourable than that of which you
accuse me. I can wait." He smiled with a certain severity. "It is my
duty to wait until you have recovered your natural way of thinking."
Constance was looking at him, her eyes full of wonder and amusement.
"Thank you," she said. "You are very kind, very considerate. But
suppose you reflect for a moment on your theory of the equality of man
and woman. Doesn't it suggest an explanation of what you call my
disordered state of mind?--Let us use plain words. You want money for
your career, and, as the need is pressing, you are willing to take the
encumbrance of a wife. I am to feel myself honoured by your acceptance
of me, to subject myself entirely to your purposes, to think it a
glorious reward if I can aid your ambition. Is there much equality in
this arrangement?"
"You put things in the meanest light," protested Lashmar. "What I offer
you is a share in all my thoughts, a companionship in whatever I do or
become. I have no exaggerated sense of my own powers, but this I know,
that, with fair opportunity, I can attain distinction. If I thought of
you as in any sense an encumbrance, I shouldn't dream of asking you to
marry me; it would defeat the object of my life. I have always seen in
you just the kind of woman who would understand me and help me."
"My vanity will grant you that,
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