At the worst, there was a chance of
finding his father promptly, and of that father as promptly
taking steps to prevent the son from ever again seeing the woman
who had so indiscreetly married him. Yet, somehow, Mary could
not believe that her husband would yield to such paternal
coercion. Rather, she was sure that he would prove loyal to her
whom he loved, through every trouble. At the thought a certain
wistfulness pervaded her, and a poignant regret that this
particular man should have been the one chosen of fate to be
entangled within her mesh of revenge. There throbbed in her a
heart-tormenting realization that there were in life
possibilities infinitely more splendid than the joy of vengeance.
She would not confess the truth even to her inmost soul, but the
truth was there, and set her a-tremble with vague fears.
Nevertheless, because she was in perfect health, and was much
fatigued, her introspection did not avail to keep her awake, and
within three minutes from the time she lay down she was
blissfully unconscious of all things, both the evil and the good,
revenge and love.
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