CHAPTER XXIX.A SECRET SORROW.
“I dreamed that time, I dreamed that pride,Had quenched at length my early flame,Nor knew till seated by thy side,My heart in all save hope the same.”
“I dreamed that time, I dreamed that pride,Had quenched at length my early flame,Nor knew till seated by thy side,My heart in all save hope the same.”
“I dreamed that time, I dreamed that pride,Had quenched at length my early flame,Nor knew till seated by thy side,My heart in all save hope the same.”
“I dreamed that time, I dreamed that pride,
Had quenched at length my early flame,
Nor knew till seated by thy side,
My heart in all save hope the same.”
Cinthia had made a rash promise, and she realized it; but her pride would not permit her to retract.
She knew well that Arthur Varian was still too fatally dear to her heart for her to meet him daily on mere friendly grounds; that would only augment her love and her despair, since neither pride nor reason had sufficed to quench the smoldering flame.
Since Arthur was not conceited, and was unversed in the complex windings of a woman’s nature, he was mystified, if not entirely deceived, by the words in whichshe gave him to understand that she loved him no longer, but was willing to let friendship take the place of passion.
Although he did not quite understand her manner, he was more than glad to find that her love had been more shallow than at first appeared and more easily conquered. He had been in deep earnest when he told her he hoped that the day might come when each of them, married to another, might yet become dear friends.
His dearest hope now was to see her married to his cousin, or to any man who could secure to her the happiness that had been so fatally jeopardized by her broken betrothal with himself.
As for his own marriage, at which he had hinted, his mother was trying to bring that about with all thefinesseof which she was capable. She surrounded herself constantly with fair young girls, and went much into society solely on Arthur’s account, but she could not see that she was making any progress in her desires.
Arthur was equally courteous to all, but he never betrayed any preference for any. There lingered about him a secret sadness that in truth found no mitigation with time. There was a subtle change in him only to be interpreted by the poet’s lines.
“I have a secret sorrow here,A grief I’ll never impart;It heaves no sigh, it sheds no tear,But it consumes my heart.”
“I have a secret sorrow here,A grief I’ll never impart;It heaves no sigh, it sheds no tear,But it consumes my heart.”
“I have a secret sorrow here,A grief I’ll never impart;It heaves no sigh, it sheds no tear,But it consumes my heart.”
“I have a secret sorrow here,
A grief I’ll never impart;
It heaves no sigh, it sheds no tear,
But it consumes my heart.”
In secret he deplored this meeting with Cinthia, thathad so suddenly reopened the seared wounds of the past, but her assumed indifference gave him a new thought.
Perhaps if they were to meet daily on the new terms of friendship the old bitterness might gradually be dispelled and better feelings result.
He might also in this way help his cousin to prosecute his suit with Cinthia.
So Arthur fell into the net that Cinthia’s pride spread for his feet, and it was written in the book of fate that he and Cinthia were to meet daily for weeks, for with the arrival of winter guests at Weir Park Hotel and vicinity, a little season of mild gayety set in, in which every one in the neighborhood bore part. And as for Frederick Foster, it seemed as if he could hardly exist away from Lodge Delight.
Not that Cinthia gave him any particular encouragement to come, beyond simple courtesy; but he was vexed at himself for former rashness, and determined to try the effect of patient devotion in besieging her heart. Besides, there were other men now trying to rival him, and he must spare no effort to distance these rivals.
Arthur did not always accompany his cousin on his visits; but he could not avoid meeting Cinthia often in the social life at Weir Park, and it seemed to him that she grew more bright and beautiful daily as the unattainable always grows more lovely to our eyes.
Whether she appeared in silk and lace and nodding plumes at some garden-party, or in yacht costume for alake excursion, or in cycling suit on her wheel, or in evening-dress at some gay reception, Cinthia was always lovelier than before to his admiring eyes, and he thought, generously:
“I thank Heaven that the dear girl has the means to gratify her expensive tastes, for who knows how much it has helped in the cure of her heart. Besides, she has now several lovers every way as desirable as I ever was, and even if she refuses Fred she is sure to choose one of the others.”
Why was she sure to do so? Had not his mother presented to him scores of pretty girls without touching his heart? Why should Cinthia’s fancy be turned aside more lightly than his own?
“The wind bloweth where it listeth,And so with Love.”
“The wind bloweth where it listeth,And so with Love.”
“The wind bloweth where it listeth,And so with Love.”
“The wind bloweth where it listeth,
And so with Love.”