canvas painting

voice was the pant of a lion rising- 'Jane, do you mean to go one
way in the world, and to let me go another?'
'I do.'
'Jane' (bending towards and embracing me), 'do you mean it now?'
'I do.'
'And now?' softly kissing my forehead and cheek.
'I do,' extricating myself from restraint rapidly and completely.
'Oh, Jane, this is bitter! This- this is wicked. It would not be
wicked to love me.'
'It would to obey you.'
A wild look raised his brows- crossed his features: he rose; but he
forbore yet. I laid my hand on the back of a chair for support: I
shook, I feared- but I resolved.
'One instant, Jane. Give one glance to my horrible life when you
are gone. All happiness will be torn away with you. What then is left?
For a wife I have but the maniac upstairs: as well might you refer
me to some corpse in yonder churchyard. What shall I do, Jane? Where
turn for a companion and for some hope?'
'Do as I do: trust in God and yourself. Believe in heaven. Hope
to meet again there.'
'Then you will not yield?'