Not that he ceased to pity the misfortune or
to yearn for the sight of Seraphina; but the memory of her obdurate
coldness awoke within him, and woke in turn his own habitual
diffidence of self. Had Sir John been given time to tell him all,
had he even known that she was speeding to the Felsenburg, he would
have gone to her with ardour. As it was, he began to see himself
once more intruding, profiting, perhaps, by her misfortune, and now
that she was fallen, proffering unloved caresses to the wife who had
spurned him in prosperity. The sore spots upon his vanity began to
burn; once more, his anger assumed the carriage of a hostile
generosity; he would utterly forgive indeed; he would help, save,
and comfort his unloving wife; but all with distant self-denial,
imposing silence on his heart, respecting Seraphina's disaffection
as he would the innocence of a child. So, when at length he turned
a corner and beheld the Princess, it was his first thought to
reassure her of the purity of his respect, and he at once ceased
running and stood still. She, upon her part, began to run to him
with a little cry; then, seeing him pause, she paused also, smitten
with remorse; and at length, with the most guilty timidity, walked
nearly up to where he stood.
'Otto,' she said, 'I have ruined all!'
'Seraphina!' he cried with a sob, but did not move, partly withheld
by his resolutions, partly struck stupid at the sight of her
weariness and disorder.
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