Читать книгу Charles Peace, or The Adventures of a Notorious Burglar онлайн

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“My dear, nothing is certain in this life,” he said quickly. “Positively nothing, except hard work for us all.”

For some time after this both husband and wife remained silent. She cleared the supper table, and he lighted his pipe.

She sat herself down by his side. Presently she said—

“Tom, I should dearly like to know who I am.”

He started, and glanced quickly at her.

“Who you are—​you are my wife.”

“Yes, I know, but who my mother was, and my father. It is strange that there should be such a mystery hanging over me.”

“What puts that into your head all of a sudden?”

“I don’t know, I’m sure. My mother was a lady, and I am, moreover, sure that I am one myself, although I have been brought up in a homely manner. No matter for that—​I am a lady myself—​you may laugh at me, but I feel like one, or rather how I imagine a lady should feel. I love all things bright and beautiful. I detest everything mean, paltry, and contemptible. You think I am discontented, but this is not so. Nevertheless, I am free to confess that I have tastes which, perhaps, will never be gratified—​longings which never can be realised. Is it my fault that a dark mystery hangs over me?”