“No, I won’t believe it. Something has happened to her. Why should she go off with him?” said Ezra distractedly.
“Did you not know that he was repeatedly here to see her, whenever you were out of the way?” said Madame, who did not think she was exaggerating in any way.
“She told me all that,” answered Ezra nervously, “but she was only amused by his talk.”
“No, your love is blind. Dear Ezra, I wish I could soften the blow. There is no doubt about it. I saw them once together at the spring, he kissed her at parting. It was a man and the woman he loved. I cannot be mistaken. Remember he was very handsome and winning in his manners, and she was young and pretty.”
“Ah, my sweet little Ollie! My little rose-bud,” cried Ezra, starting to his feet. “I’ll go to her, she shall not wander away out of my reach without one effort to save her from herself. She was only a child. Why didn’t you look after her?” he asked, suddenly facing Madame with an angry glance.
“Did you give her into my charge either by word or hint?” returned she, somewhat taken aback.
“It was not your fault. Forgive me. I am too distracted to know what I say. I remember she refused to go to you. She said she would rather stay at home. I tried to urge her, but she would not consent to it,” said Ezra in a low voice.
“Ah,” remarked Madame, “very possibly she expected him to come to her during your absence.”
“No, no, you shall not say that!” said Ezra in agony. “I cannot bear it. She had no such thought. She was as innocent as the flowers, as she looked at me with her sweet eyes. She had no such thought, I know.”
“It is ever thus,” said Madame, coming closer to him and speaking with an unwonted tremor in her voice. “Love seems always at cross purposes. You give all your love to Olive, who gives all hers to Cotterell. Another gives all her love to you. We are equally unhappy.”