erowners.”
Itisoneofthecuriositiesofsentimentthatitsmostabjectslaverarelypermitsittointerferewithhistemporalconcernsitappearsasunusualforamantosentimentaliseinhisownwalkoflifeasforhimtopickhisownpocket.Edward,havingpassedallhisdaysincontactwiththeearth,mighthavebeenexpectedtocherishacertainloveofnature.Thepathosoftranspontinemelodramamadehimcough,andblowhisnoseandinliteratureheaffectedthetitledandconsumptiveheroine,andthesoft-hearted,burlyhero.Butwhenitcametobusiness,itwasanothermatter—thesortofsentimentwhichasksafarmertospareasylvangladefor?stheticreasonsisabsurd.Edwardwouldhavewillinglyallowedadvertisement-mongerstoputupboardsonthemostbeautifulpartoftheestate,iftherebyhecouldsurreptitiouslyincreasetheprofitsofhisfarm.
“Whateveryoumaythinkofmypeople,”saidBertha,“youwillkindlypayattentiontome.Thelandismine,andIrefusetoletyouspoilit.”
“Itisn’tspoilingit.It’stheproperthingtodo.You’llsoongetusedtonotseeingthewretchedtrees—andItellyouI’monlygoingtotakethreedown.I’vegivenorderstocuttheothersto-morrow.”
“D’youmeantosayyou’regoingtoignoremeabsolutely?”
“I’mgoingtodowhat’srightandifyoudon’tapproveofit,I’mverysorry,butIshalldoitallthesame.”
“Ishallgivethemenorderstodonothingofthekind.”
Edwardlaughed.“Thenyou’llmakeanassofyourself.Youtrygivingthemorderscontrarytomine,andseewhattheydo.”
Berthagaveacry.Inherfuryshelookedroundforsomethingtothrowshewouldhavelikedtohithimbuthestoodthere,calmandself-possessed,quiteamused.
“Ithinkyoumustbemad,”shesaid.“Youdoallyoucantodestroymyloveforyou.”
Shewasintoogreatapassionforwords.Thiswasthemeasureofhisaffectionhemust,indeed,utterlydespiseherandthiswastheonlyresultoftheloveshehadhumblylaidathisfeet.Sheaskedherselfwhatshecoulddoshecoulddonothing—butsubmit.Sheknewaswellashethatherorderswouldbedisobeyediftheydidnotagreewithhisandthathewouldkeephiswordshedidnotforamomentdoub