Not all mine, of course. But it'll make sense once book IV is done!
Happy the man, and happy he alone,
He who can call today his own:
He who, secure within, can say,
Tomorrow do thy worst, for I have lived today.
Be fair or foul or rain or shine,
The joys I have possessed, in spite of fate, are mine.
Not heaven itself upon the past has power,
But what has been, has been, and I have had my hour.
“That is it. Your choice.”
“I wrote it down.” Strelley smiles thinly. “My prayer that I would not have to make this choice.
“God, do not call on me to choose: her or not her.
“Let me be, alone, with regret for things not said.
“Should she ask, I do not have the strength to say no.”
“Edward,” Elizabeth Strelley says, quietly, “I didn’t know. I don’t think Caroline did either.”
“You weren’t supposed to. I’m sorry. Truly. Because if Sudeley had found out, it would have been dreadful for us all.”
“Did you tell her?” Elizabeth Strelley’s voice isn’t indignant, there is no hint of accusation or jealousy. She watches his face. “You did. Well, perhaps you shouldn’t have. It might have been easier on her if she thought you were dead and gone.”
“I thought that too. But with Grindal dying… She had to have some comfort. I did not go to her to tell her… But I made sure she knew I was alive. Before I went, I didn’t understand how I felt.”
“What do you mean?”
“It was only when I was a thousand miles away,” Edward Strelley says, “without her, and thinking about what to do next. Then I realised. Then I knew. And when I came back, she was in prison, alone and frightened. And I could not bear to hold it in me any longer.”
“You love her.”
“Desperately. So that I can think of little else.”
“Does she know that?”
“And? Does she feel the same?”
“I hope not.”
When to the sessions of sweet silent thought