At the recollection that it was his, she seemed to fall through a thin surface, as one might fall through the crust of a lava into glowing depths. It is enough to make a man throw away canvas and brushes into the bottomless precipices, enough to make one weep with despair at his utter and absolute impotence. I can esteem him, regard him; but, love him as he ought to be loved—that I cannot do. Cathy rushed out from the kitchen, all smiles, with Lucy behind her. She had prepared herself to meet violent protest, a recurrence of that burning glance.
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