Then he thought
of what old Edward had said to him, and of what Mr. Granger had said
with reference to Beatrice and Owen Davies. The views of both were
crudely and even vulgarly expressed, but they coincided, and, what was
more, there was truth in them, and he knew it. The idea of Beatrice
marrying Mr. Davies, to put it mildly, was repulsive to him; but had he
any claim to stand between her and so desirable a settlement in life?
Clearly, he had not, his conscience told him so.
Could it be right, moreover, that this kind of tie which existed between
them should be knitted more closely? What would it mean? Trouble, and
nothing but trouble, more especially to Beatrice, who would fret her
days away to no end. He had done wrong in coming here at all, he had
done wrong in taking her hand. He would make the only reparation in his
power (as though in such a case as that of Beatrice reparation were now
possible)! He would efface himself from her life and see her no more.
Then she might learn to forget him, or, at the worst, to remember him
with but a vague regret. Yes, cost what it might, he would force himself
to do it before any actual mischief ensued.
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