Rebecca

by Daphne du Maurier

I had never looked more youthful, I had never felt so old.

I am glad it cannot happen twice, the fever of first love. For it is a fever, and a burden, too, whatever the poets may say.

“our characters are poles apart. I show everything on my face: whether I like people or not, whether I am angry or pleased. There’s no reserve about me. Maxim is entirely different. Very quiet, very reserved. You never know what’s going on in that funny mind of his. I

I should say that kindness, and sincerity, and—if I may say so—modesty are worth far more to a man, to a husband, than all the wit and beauty in the world.”

When I saw the car disappear round the sweep in the drive I felt exactly as though it were to be a final parting and I should never see him again. There would be an accident of course and later on in the afternoon, when I came back from my walk, I should find Frith white and frightened waiting for me with a message. The doctor would have rung up from some cottage hospital. “You must be very brave,” he would say, “I’m afraid you must be prepared for a great shock.” And Frank would come, and we would go to the hospital together. Maxim would not recognize me. I went through the whole thing as I was sitting at lunch, I could see the crowd of local people clustering round the churchyard at the funeral, and myself leaning on Frank’s arm. It was so real to me that I could scarcely eat any lunch, and I kept straining my ears to hear the telephone should it ring.

I could not imagine it rough now, any more than I could imagine winter in summer.

It’s Rebecca who’s lying dead there on the cabin floor. Will you look into my eyes and tell me that you love me now?”

“This cancer business,” he said; “does anybody know if it’s contagious?”

Shows a sign of the times. So little was known about cancer back then, similar to HIV in the 80s and 90s. Seems odd to even ask if cancer is contagious nowadays.

“and drive slowly, or you will find yourself in jail for manslaughter.

Dramatic irony