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Updated: April 30, 2025
As long as she could she had fed the flame within her soul fed it with every bitter thought and harsh judgment which her brain could evolve and yet that flame had slackened and smouldered and finally died out entirely. Self-shame, self-scorn even, could not rekindle it.
Even if my comrades should not have missed me, and should never know of my weakness, there would still remain some intolerable self-shame in my own soul. And yet I shuddered at the position in which I found myself, and would have given all I possessed at that moment to have been honorably free of the whole business. It was dreadful in the forest.
Even the faint sense of humor which he felt at the situation could not prevent him from experiencing the sting of self-shame. Had it been an equal who was unjustly accused of a fault he had committed he would have felt less humiliated.
Womanlike, she had been longing for him to do so for some time, but resented it bitterly when he did. Perhaps something faintly contemptuous, a shadowed hint that he had noticed her interest in him, flamed up the desire to snub him in her heart, or perhaps it was a feeling of self-shame to find herself so poor a beggar at friendship's gate.
The self-shame was not deserved, for nature had been too strong for Scarlett Markham, and it was more the stupor of utter exhaustion to which he had succumbed than sleep. He crept to where Sir Godfrey lay, and felt for his face, which was cold and clammy, sending a shudder through the fingers which touched the icy brow, and then sought for the region of the heart.
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