Oh, Paul, I love you so dearly,--but I almost think that I ought to have obeyed him." Paul Montague of course had very much to say in answer to this. Among the holy things which did exist to gild this every-day unholy world, love was the holiest. It should be soiled by no falsehood, should know nothing of compromises, should admit no excuses, should make itself subject to no external circumstances. If Fortune had been so kind to him as to give him her heart, poor as his claim might be, she could have no right to refuse him the assurance of her love. And though his rival were an angel, he could have no shadow of a claim upon her,--seeing that he had failed to win her heart. It was very well said,--at least so Hetta thought,--and she made no attempt at argument against him. But what was to be done in reference to poor Roger? She had spoken the word now, and, whether for good or bad, she had given herself to Paul Montague. Even though Roger should have to walk disconsolate to the grave, it could not now be helped. 
Oh, Paul, I love you so dearly - but I almost think that I ought to have obeyed him."
Paul Montague of course had very much to say in answer to this. Even if Roger were an angel, he could have no claim upon her, since he had failed to win her heart.
But what was to be done about poor Roger? Whether for good or bad, Hetta had now given herself to Paul Montague. Should he not