"
He was only twenty-three--the age at which life opens to most
men; yet he was worn, tired, weary of everything--the energies
that once seemed boundless, the ambition once so fierce and
proud, all gone. His whole nature recoiled from the shock. Had
Dora, in the fury of her jealousy and rage, tried to kill him, he
would have thought that but a small offense compared with the
breach of honor in crouching behind the trees to listen. He
thought of the quiet, grand beauty of Valentine's face while Dora
was convulsed with passion. He remembered the utter wonder in
Valentine's eyes when Dora's flamed upon them. He remembered the
sickening sense of shame that had cowed him as he listened to her
angry, abusive words. And this untrained, ignorant, ill-bred
woman was his wife! For her he had given up home, parents,
position, wealth--all he had in life worth caring for. For her,
and through her, he stood there alone in the world.
Those thoughts first maddened him, then drove him to despair.
What had life left for him? He could not return to England; his
father's doors were closed against him.
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