We make haste to doubt the divinest fidelity; we
drive the dagger into each other, and we smother the Desdemona who
would have been the light of life to us, not because of any deadly
difference or grievous injury, but because we idly and wilfully
reject.
The tale, evermore is:
"Of one whose hand,
Like the base Indian, threw a pearl away
Richer than all his tribe."
So said Zachariah to himself as he came out into Drury Lane and
walked eastwards. His wife and the Major were back before him. The
Major did not wait but returned at once to Albany Street, leaving
Mrs. Coleman to sit up for her husband. He was not hurrying himself,
and could not free himself from the crowd so easily as those who left
from below. The consequence was that he was a full half-hour behind
her, and she was not particularly pleased at having been kept so long
out of her bed. When she let him in all that she said was, "Oh, here
you are at last," and immediately retired. Strange to say, she
forgot all about family worship--never before omitted, however late
it might be. If she had taken the trouble to ask him whether he had
seen her message and the ticket so much might have been cleared up.
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