It was a mere game which he
played with his own emotions, for it was no longer in his power to
throw up anything upon which he had set his mind. Without knowing it,
he had become the slave of his own will, a headlong, ruthless will,
which saw nothing but the goal, and to whom the lives and happiness of
others were no more than obstacles to be thrown indifferently on one
side. Yet in this short interval, when that will lay inactively in
abeyance, he suffered.
He had lost Lois, among other things, and the loss stung both sides of
him. He wanted her because he loved her, and because she had become
necessary to his plans. He had wanted her, and in spite of every
effort she had seemed to pass out of his reach. Seemed! As he stood
there with folded arms, watching the sunlight broaden over the
peaceful terraces, it pleased his fancy to imagine that the loss was
real and definite, and that he stood willingly on one side, resigning
himself to the decree that ordained her happiness. With a stabbing
pain came back the memory of their brief interview together. He had
talked of praying for her future. Had he been wholly sincere or, as
now, only so far as a man is who concentrates his temporary interest
upon some sport, only to forget it as soon as it is over? Possibly,
nay, certainly. He did not believe in himself--not, at least, in the
generous, self-sacrificing side. He called that sort of thing in other
people "pose" and in himself a necessary relaxation.
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