‘Some might,’ echoes the girl with a heavy sigh, the meaning of which it is impossible to misconstrue. Lord Ernest Freemantle proves to be a simple, undersized little gentleman, who is very much enamoured of Miss Mabel Moore, and becomes proportionately jealous of Sir Roland Tresham. And the latter, delighted at the feeling he has provoked, takes pleasure in exciting it to the last degree, by a still closer attendance on the young lady. One evening, when she has refused to accompany Lord Ernest and her aunt on a walking expedition through the town, Sir Roland persuades her to go on the water with him in a gondola. Mabel assents with alacrity, and they are soon floating together over the placid surface of the canal, seated under the canopy at one end of the boat, whilst the gondoliers ply their oars to the music of their own voices at the other.
‘How I wish we could go floating on like this into eternity,’ remarks Sir Roland, presently.
‘It would be very easy,’ replies Mabel in a low voice. ‘It is but to cast ourselves over the side into those dark waters and sink out of sight for ever. It would be a happier fate—at least for me—than any I have to look forward to.’
‘You mustn’t talk like that. You are young, and have every prospect of a happy life before you.’
‘Indeed, I have not.’
‘My dear Mabel, why those tears?’ exclaims Sir Roland, as the girl dashes her hand across her eyes. ‘What have I said to vex you?’
‘Nothing. But life is so hard, and—and—disappointing.’
He passes his arm around her waist.
‘Tell me what makes it so to you.’