"I am delighted," said Lucille, her voice and hand still trembling a little, "that your own vow was not broken."
Leo's olive complexion was softened in the moon's rays, his face was saddened by the recital of his deep affliction, and his dark eyes were lowered, as he looked out upon the troubled pathway of the steamer. For a moment Lucille earnestly gazed at Leo who seemed to her to be handsome and noble, but he appeared lost as in a dream. Every man is thought to be noble by the woman who loves him. Then she took both his hands in hers in pity and said, "Leo, be brave as your ancestors were brave. You will be a success in the world because you have remaining your intense love for art."
"Yes, Lucille, and I think I shall marry art only."
"Don't be rash, Leo, we frail human beings know little in advance as to heaven's plans."
Few forces work truer in nature than the principle that like begets like. Leo confided in Lucille, and now Lucille confided in Leo; she slowly told in low voice the story of her own great disappointment.
"I too, once had an ideal lover. Our souls were one; the day of wedding even had been fixed; orders for an expensive trousseau had been sent to Paris; the details of the marriage had been arranged, a long journey abroad planned, and the city for our future home was selected. These things had become part of my dreams, and the joy of anticipation was filling my cup to the brim.
"One evening, in the moonlight, such as now smiles upon us, I asked Bernard if he would read a short note which I had just received, and tell me if its contents were true. Bernard removed the letter from the envelope, looked at the signature, and reading turned pale. The note was from a lady who asked if I was aware that he had offered himself to another.
"A second time I pressed the question to know if the contents were true, and he answered, 'Yes', and added that it was not his fault that he did not marry the lady.
"'Then you love her still, Bernard?'
"'Yes, Lucille, but I love you also.'