She knew that she was changed but she did
not quite realize how changed, until now as she stood and gazed.
Yet she did not hesitate but from that moment set herself to her new
life task. Characteristically, she started dramatically and largely. She
was to make her life an endless sacrifice; she was to revivify the
manhood in Harry Cresswell, and all this for no return, no partnership
of soul--all was to be complete sacrifice and sinking soul in soul.
If Mary Cresswell had attempted less she would have accomplished more.
As it was, she began well; she went to work tactfully, seeming to note
no change in his manner toward her; but his manner had changed. He was
studiously, scrupulously polite in private, and in public devoted; but
there was no feeling, no passion, no love. The polished shell of his
clan reflected conventional light even more carefully than formerly
because the shell was cold and empty. There were no little flashes of
anger now, no poutings nor sweet reconciliations. Life ran very smoothly
and courteously; and while she did not try to regain the affection, she
strove to enthrall his intellect. She supplied a sub-committee upon
which he was serving--not directly, but through him--with figures, with
reports, books, and papers, so that he received special commendations; a
praise that piqued as well as pleased him, because it implied a certain
surprise that he was able to do it.
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