A Struggle for a Ring — page 142: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

138 A DREAM BY THE SEA. how he loved her—how madly, how blindly, how deeply he loved her. He had never trembled at a woman's soft touch before; now, if his hand touch-d hers, if her dress touched him in passing, if, as he bent over her to read or to sing, the perfume from her hair or her dress reached him, he trembled like a strong tree swaying in a storm. Then he knew what he had done, and how his life was ruined and blighted by that one false notion of honor. He did not say to himself this time that it was for honor’s sake; that idea had quite ceased to comfort him. He loved her, and the next thing was to fly far from her—to go where the witchery of her face would never set his heart on fire again; to go where her voice would never reach him. It would be better, he thought, to die than to linger here. He had no fear for her—she laughed, talked, danced, jested, and sang; her beautiful face was always bright; the delicate, haughty lips uttered repartees and witticisms that amused all wno heard them ; the dark, luminous eyes were filled with the poetry of deep thought. She was so worshiped, so sought after, so beloved—there was no fear for her. He remembered how his mother had warned him not to look on her beauty with longing eyes, for it could never be his. He was doing her no injury; she, who had made so many brilliant conquests, she would never care about him. . As for himself—well, they allowed a condemned criminal even to linger for a few days; they allowed a man who was to die on the morrow to look at the sun while he could; they allowed a dying man to take a last look at the faces he loved. So why should he not linger by her side until the Friday came on which she was to leave? It would not hurt her, and it was his last gleam of happiness; then he Gomicboo =) CeCe)