"
"I am King of England. I am Heaven's satrap here, and answerable to
Heaven alone. It is my heritage." And now his large and cruel eyes
were aflame as he regarded her.
And visibly beneath their glare the woman changed. "My friend, must I
not love you any longer? You would be content with happiness? Then I
am jealous of that happiness! for you are the one friend that I have
had, and so dear to me--Look you!" she said, with a light, wistful
laugh, "there have been times when I was afraid of everything you
touched, and I hated everything you looked at. I would not have you
stained; I desired to pass my whole life between the four walls of
some dingy and eternal gaol, forever alone with you, lest you become
like other men. I would in that period have been the very bread you
eat, the least perfume which delights you, the clod you touch in
crushing it, and I have often loathed some pleasure I derived from
life because I might not transfer it to you undiminished. For I wanted
somehow to make you happy to my own anguish.... It was wicked, I
suppose, for the imagining of it made me happy, too.
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