Page 654 - the-portrait-of-a-lady

stown. Such a ceremony would be odious and monstrous;
she tried to shut her eyes to it meanwhile. Osmond would do
nothing to help it by beginning first; he would put that bur-
den upon her to the end. He had not yet formally forbidden
her to call upon Ralph; but she felt sure that unless Ralph
should very soon depart this prohibition would come. How
could poor Ralph depart? The weather as yet made it impos-
sible. She could perfectly understand her husband’s wish for
the event; she didn’t, to be just, see how he could like her to
be with her cousin. Ralph never said a word against him,
but Osmond’s sore, mute protest was none the less founded.
If he should positively interpose, if he should put forth his
authority, she would have to decide, and that wouldn’t be
easy. The prospect made her heart beat and her cheeks burn,
as I say, in advance; there were moments when, in her wish
to avoid an open rupture, she found herself wishing Ralph
would start even at a risk. And it was of no use that, when
catching herself in this state of mind, she called herself a
feeble spirit, a coward. It was not that she loved Ralph less,
but that almost anything seemed preferable to repudiating
the most serious act-the single sacred act-of her life. That
appeared to make the whole future hideous. To break with
Osmond once would be to break for ever; any open acknowl-
edgement of irreconcilable needs would be an admission
that their whole attempt had proved a failure. For them
there could be no condonement, no compromise, no easy
forgetfulness, no formal readjustment. They had attempted
only one thing, but that one thing was to have been exqui-
site. Once they missed it nothing else would do; there was

654 The Portrait of a Lady