Joseph Conrad: Nostromo

PART FIRST: THE SILVER OF THE MINE 6. CHAPTER SIX (continued)

She glanced up at him with admiration. He was competent; he had
given a vast shape to the vagueness of her unselfish ambitions.

"Charley," she said, "you are splendidly disobedient."

He left her suddenly in the corredor to go and get his hat, a
soft, grey sombrero, an article of national costume which
combined unexpectedly well with his English get-up. He came back,
a riding-whip under his arm, buttoning up a dogskin glove; his
face reflected the resolute nature of his thoughts. His wife had
waited for him at the head of the stairs, and before he gave her
the parting kiss he finished the conversation--

"What should be perfectly clear to us," he said, "is the fact
that there is no going back. Where could we begin life afresh? We
are in now for all that there is in us."

He bent over her upturned face very tenderly and a little
remorsefully. Charles Gould was competent because he had no
illusions. The Gould Concession had to fight for life with such
weapons as could be found at once in the mire of a corruption
that was so universal as almost to lose its significance. He was
prepared to stoop for his weapons. For a moment he felt as if the
silver mine, which had killed his father, had decoyed him further
than he meant to go; and with the roundabout logic of emotions,
he felt that the worthiness of his life was bound up with
success. There was no going back.