I cannot forget my blood. I am an Englishwoman.
I come of a family that has chosen exile rather than yield a point of
honor that involved the crown. I have been bred to that idea of
country, nurtured on it. Could I stay with you and see you work
against my people? If I were a different sort of woman; if I were the
gentle girl that you should marry,--one who knew no life but flattery
and courts, like the lady of the miniature,--why, then it might be
possible for me to think of you only in relation to myself, and to
forget all that you stood for. But I am--what I am. I have known
tragedy and suffering. I cannot blind myself with dreams as a girl
might, and I understand fully the significance of what you are doing.
We should have a divided hearth, monsieur."
She had made her long speech with breaks, but I had not interrupted
her. And now that she had finished I did not speak till she looked at
me in wonder.
"I am thinking. I see that it comes to this, madame. I must renounce
either my work or my wife."
She suddenly stretched out her hand. "Oh, I would not have you
renounce your work, monsieur!"
A chair stood in front of her, and I brushed it away and let it clatter
on the floor.
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