It was not
to the man as artist, but as lover, that my heart went out.
Later, you had a brilliant future before you; one day you would make an
income sufficient for us both. But you seemed so utterly indifferent to
money that I was disappointed. My dreams died out like a fire for want
of fuel.
Had you proposed that I should become your mistress, no power on earth
would have held me back. But you were too honourable even to cherish the
thought. Besides, I let you suppose I was attached to my husband....
I knew well enough that the moment you became aware of my feelings for
you, you would leave no stone unturned until you could legitimately
claim me as your wife.... Such is your nature, Joergen Malthe!
So I let happiness go by.
* * * * *
Two years ago Von Brincken died, leaving me a considerable share of his
fortune--- and a letter, written on the night of the day when we last
met.
I might then have left Richard. Your constancy would have been a
sufficient guarantee for my future.
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