"Good-bye, my beloved," he said. "Think of the thirteenth of June, and the roses I shall bring back with me."
And then he was gone.
CHAPTER XXI.
WAITING FOR THE DAY.
How the days of that dreary summer passed Leone never knew; the keenest smart of the pain came afterward. At first she was too utterly stunned and bewildered by the suddenness of the blow to realize all that happened. It was impossible to believe that her marriage had been set aside, and that her husband, as she called him, had gone away; but, as the days rolled on, she slowly but surely realized it. There was no break in the terrible monotony. The voice that made such music in her ears was silent, the footsteps that had made her heart beat and her pulse thrill were heard no more; the handsome face, always brightened with such tender love for her, no longer brought sunshine and warmth; it was as though the very light had gone out of her life, and left it all bleak, dark and cold.
For some days the proud heart, the proud, unyielding spirit gave way, and she longed for death; life without Lance seemed so utterly unbearable. Then youth and a naturally strong constitution triumphed. She began to think how much she could learn so as to surprise him on his return. Her soul was fired with ambition; in a few months she would achieve wonders. She set herself so much; she would become proficient on the piano and the harp; she would improve her singing; she would practice drawing; she would take lessons in French and Italian.
"I can learn if I will," she said to herself; "I feel power without limit in myself. If I fix my own will on attaining a certain object I shall not fail. Lance shall find an accomplished wife when he returns."
She resolved to give her whole time and attention to it. Thanks to the old books in Farmer Noel's house, she was better read than the generality of ladies. No toil, no trouble daunted her. She rose in the morning long hours before the rest of the household were awake, and she read for hours after they were asleep. The masters who attended her, not knowing her motive, wondered at her marvelous industry. They wondered, too, at the great gifts nature had bestowed upon her—at the grand voice, capable of such magnificent cultivation; at the superb dramatic instinct which raised her so completely above the commonplace; at the natural grace, the beauty of face and attitude, the love of the beautiful and picturesque. They wondered why so many great gifts, such remarkable beauty and talent should have been lavished on one creature. They strove with her—the more she learned the more they tried to teach her; the harder she worked the harder they worked with her.
As the weeks passed on her progress was wonderful. She was often amazed at herself. It was so sweet to study for his sake, to rise in the early morning and work for him.