Weaker than a Woman — page 195: what you’re looking at

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

186 WEAKER THAN A WOMAN. that evening more than he had, ever before. He wondered why she would not marry, and then he said to himself that after all he was not sorry. His friendship for her was the most pleasant part of his life, and he could hardly — imagine her devoted entirely to another. She was not beau- tiful, but there were times when he saw on her fair face loveliness brighter than any physical beauty ; she was so tender, so earnest, so pure, so noble and high-minded. “ Whoever marries her,” he‘thought, “ will certainly have a treasure of a wife. Eve deserves the truest love that a man can give her.” Yet it never once occurred to him to love her himself. In ~ his honest heart he believed that love was all ended for him; he could not realize that a man could love twice ina life-time. His love, he told himself, had been slain. He never thought now of any future for himself; he never pictured himself with fair wife or loving children; he never dreamed again of a home. He filled his mind with work and study—love had ceased to be for him. While he steadily rose in the world Sir Owen just as steadily went down. Five years had served to injure both the baronet’s character and estate; but for the restraining hand of Darcy Lonsdale he would have been ruined. The clever, honest lawyer had acquired a kind of influence over him; he would not allow him to live above his in- come; when Sir Owen made most extraordinary demands for money, his answer was: always, “If you persist in spending more than your income, Sir Owen, I must resign my office,” and that threat invariably brought the baronet toreason. He knew that le was about as capable of manag- ing his estate as of translating Greek. Sir Owen had had one great disappointment—Heaven had not blessed him with a son and heir. One good quality among a host of bad ones was his love of children. While he was cruel to animals, almost furious at times with his wife and servants, he loved little children; and the chances were that if he had had children around him he would have been a better man. As it was, the disappointment made him sour and morose; he could not bear it; he was sullen and fierce by turns. “No son to succeed me!” he would say. ‘“ Why should I care about my fame or my name? I want ason. I should have something to live for if Ihad a son. Why, some of the laborers on my estate have half a dozen strong, sturdy sons; why should not one at least have been given to me?” “You may depend upon it, Sir Owen, Heaven knows best comicbooks.com —