The only pity she feels is pity for
herself, thus hopelessly caught in the meshes of her own mistake.
But how to make him realise this, is the puzzle.
Do you remember how the Israelites were shut in, between Migdol and
the sea? I knew Migdol meant "towers," but I never understood the
passage, until I stood upon that narrow wedge of desert, with the
Red Sea in front and on the left; the rocky range of Gebel Attaka on
the right, towering up against the sky, like the weird shapes of an
impregnable fortress; the sole outlet or inlet behind, being the
route they had just travelled from Egypt, and along which the
chariots and horsemen of Pharaoh were then thundering in hot
pursuit. Even so, Boy, is poor Jane now tramping her patch of
desert, which narrows daily to the measure of her despair. Migdol is
HIS certainty that HER love could only be pity. The Red Sea is the
confession into which she must inevitably plunge, to avoid scaling
Migdol; in the chill waters of which, as she drags him in with her,
his love is bound to drown, as waves of doubt and mistrust sweep
over its head,--doubts which he has lost the power of removing;
mistrust which he can never hope to prove to have been false and
mistaken.
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