“Oh yes! But I can’t tell why I used to think him so interesting. He’s a very handsome boy, but I can’t fall in love now with a straight nose and good intentions. If I lived fifty years with him, he would never know what I was thinking of.”
She laughed as she spoke, a short bitter little laugh. “He has done his best—done his duty by me. But he can’t put the clock back.”
“I said that you were never really in love with him!” said Una, after a moment’s startled silence.
“I was, with every thought and feeling and part of me! But I’ve forgotten him. I’m not made of the stuff to be constant and faithful—as he has been. He was a fool not to know I was a good girl then! I believe I’m a very bad one now!”
“You looked so happy, when you thought he was coming.”
“Yes, I thought if the sight of him brought it all back, I could even forgive him—and his mother—and mine! I was as much a fool then as he was, not to force him to believe in me. But if I had, and had found out by this time that he was stupid?”
“He must have loved you very much.”
“He loved his duty or his honour, or whatever it was, better than he loved me,” said Amethyst. “He has done his duty by me now, and satisfied his sense of honour. But what am I talking about? What is the use of feelings? And what is the use of keeping you awake and making you ill? Lie down, my sweet, I shall be in my senses to-morrow, and then you shall hear some news.”
“Oh, Amethyst, don’t do it!” cried Una. “Whether you have forgotten Lucian or not, if you can’t care for any one again—”
“Oh, but I guess I could,” said Amethyst, recklessly. “There’s the very thing—there’s the rub.”