He understood
perfectly how the insight which she had allowed him into her grief and
her remorse had broken down the barriers between them. Her incapacity
for silence, and reticence, had undone her. Was he a villain to have
taken advantage of it?
Why? With a strange, half-cynical clearness he saw her, as the obstacle
that she was, in Ashe's life and career. For Ashe--supposing he, Cliffe,
persuaded her--there would be no doubt a first shock of wrath and
pain--then a sense of deliverance. For her, too, deliverance! It excited
his artist's sense to think of all the further developments through
which he might carry that eager, plastic nature. There would be a new
Kitty, with new capacities and powers. Wasn't that justification enough?
He felt himself a sculptor in the very substance of life, moulding a
living creature afresh, disengaging it from harsh and hindering
conditions. What was there vile in that?
The argument pursued itself.
"The modern judges for himself--makes his own laws, as a god, knowing
good and evil. No doubt in time a new social law will emerge--with new
sanctions. Meanwhile, here we are, in a moment of transition,
manufacturing new types, exploring new combinations--by which let those
who come after profit!"
Little delicate, distinguished thing!--every aspect of her, angry or
sweet, sad or wilful, delighted his taste and sense.
Pages:
574
575
576
577
578
579
580
581
582
583
584
585
586
587
588
589
590
591
592
593
594
595
596
597
598