Then he rose, threw off his velvet and lace, and designedly let his thoughts turn to Arenta. “She is pretty beyond all prettiness,” he said softly as he moved about, “She dances well, talks from hand to mouth, and she gave me one sweet glance; and I think if she has gone so far—she might go further.” At this reflection he smiled again, and lifting a decanter slowly poured into a goblet some amber-coloured sherry; saying—
“I dare not yet drink to the unapproachable Cornelia; but I may at least pour the wine to the blue-eyed goddess, with the pearl necklace, and the golden hair;” and as he lifted the glass, a memory from some past mirthful hour came into his remembrance; and he began to hum a strain of the song it brought to his mind—
“Let the toast pass,
Drink to the lass
I’ll warrant, she’ll prove an excuse for the glass.”
It was remarkable that he did not take Arenta’s brother into his speculations at all, and yet Rem Van Ariens was at that very hour chafing restlessly and sleeplessly under insults he conceived himself to have received, in such fashion and under such circumstances as made reprisal impossible. In reality, however, Van Ariens had not been intentionally wounded by Hyde. The situation was the natural result of incipient jealousy and sensitive pride on Rem’s part; and of that calm indifference and complaisance on Hyde’s part, which appeared tacitly to assert its own superiority and expect its recognition as a matter of course. Indeed, at their introduction, Rem had affected Hyde rather pleasantly; and when the young Dutch gentleman’s opposition became evident, Hyde had simply ignored it. For as yet the thought of Rem as a rival had not entered his mind.
But this is the way of Love; its filmiest threads easily spin themselves further; and a man once entangled is bound by that unseen chain which links the soul to its destiny.
CHAPTER III — HYDE AND ARENTA
Seldom is Love ushered into any life with any pomp of circumstance or ceremony; there is no overture to our opera, no prologue to our play, and the most momentous meetings occur as if by mere accident. A friend delayed Cornelia a while on the street; and turning, she met Hyde face to face; a moment more, or less, and the meeting had not been. Ah, but some Power had set that moment for their meeting, and the delay had been intended, and the consequences foreseen!
In a dim kind of way Hyde realized this fact as he sat the next day with an open book before him. He was not reading it; he was thinking of Cornelia—of her pure, fresh beauty; and of that adorable air of reserve, which enhanced, even while it veiled her charms. “For her love I could resign all adventures and prison myself in a law book,” he said, “I could forget all other beauties; in a word, I could marry, and live in the country. Oh how exquisite she is! I lose my speech when I think of her!”