Loved and lost

by Bertha M. Clay

He passed the livelong night pondering, trying to come to some resolution; but unable to form any plan, so entirely stunned was he to find that the woman he had loved so chivalrously was unworthy of his long devotion.

Of course it would have been more dignified to leave Turoy early in the morning, and this had been his first intention; but as the night wore on a softer feeling intervened, and he decided that he must see Gwendolyn once more.

For two years now she had been the star of his life—his one only thought. To win her at last he had been ready to possess his soul in patience, and the longing was still strong on him to look on her again, ere he went sorrowfully into exile for her sake.

As dawn began to break, he went softly up-stairs, and lay down for awhile without undressing. When he heard people about below he was glad to rise again, and go out for a walk. Nothing was harder than to be inactive when his thoughts stung him like very swords.

On returning to the inn, two hours later, he heard, to his relief, that mine host’s other guest had already breakfasted, and was gone, taking his carpetbag with him.

“And quite the gentleman I am sure he was,” observed the landlord, smiling benignantly; “for he paid his bill without even looking at the items.”

“A hint for me,” thought the colonel, as he sat down to breakfast, with his face toward the Grange, a glimpse of which could be seen through the open window.

But it was not until nearly eleven o’clock that he saw the gate open, and Lady Gwendolyn came forth, her perfect figure showing to advantage in a closely fitting dark serge dress, while a jaunty little hat, garnished by a red feather, shaded, without concealing, her beautiful face. He fancied her manner was listless, and preoccupied, and she kept her eyes on the ground as she advanced. Nothing, however, showed her conscious of his scrutiny, and she did not so much as even glance toward his window as she went by.

Now, if the colonel had been a philosopher, here was a chance of airing his theories. But we have already said that he was nothing of the sort, and so he caught up his hat, and hurried after Lady Gwendolyn as fast as he could.

He came up with her just as she was crossing a stile leading into some meadows. She turned abruptly, and, startled by such a sudden apparition, would have fallen to the ground had he not put out his arm to save her.