Turn wheresoe’er she may,
By night or day,
The things that she hath seen she now can see no more.
Waters on a starry night,
Sunshine is a glorious birth,
Yet she knows, where’er she goes,
That there hath passed away a glory from the earth.
Wordsworth.
“‘That meeting may decide’ your ‘destinies!’ How?” inquired Lilith, in a low, steady tone, which it required all her powers of self-control to regulate.
“Oh, my child, did you never hear the homely old adage concerning lovers—that ‘old coals are soon kindled?’ We—Tudor Hereward and Leda Von Bruyin—have only to meet to come to a good understanding. My dear, we love one another. That is the reason why, under present circumstances, I did not choose to cross the ocean in the same steamer with him. Nor do I wish to meet him for some months yet. We could not, under any circumstances, unite our destinies in less than twelve or eighteen months, you know,” said the baroness, speaking with much self-complacence.