"Elizabeth!" cried Florian. "My darling!"
He stretched out his hands pleadingly, and walked toward her. She shrank back; and Madame le Claire retreated, knowing that the struggle of Amidon's life was before him.
Yet, gentle reader, why should not Amidon win? To us, a thousand things might seem to need explanation; but to Elizabeth, all this separation of Amidon from Brassfield was so new, so little realized, that her love bridged the chasm, and nothing was required except the clearing up of a week or two of curious happenings, most of which had already been so glozed over by Madame le Claire's generous plea, that what girl in love would require any greater price in humble wooing than Florian yearned to pay? Why, mesmerism alone covers all sorts of odd and suspicious doings. The case, for instance, of—— But that is beside the point. The point is, that with half of Brassfield's skill, Amidon will win handsomely. Some scenes ought not to be painted—in this plain and flippant prose. Let us wait, therefore, until the arrival of the voices of Florian and Elizabeth at the pitch of ordinary conversation admonishes us that the prose writer's psychological moment has arrived. Then we may take and transcribe some notes.
"Of course," Florian said, "he must have had some redeeming traits—superficially, or you would never have cared for him——"
"Oh, don't say such things!" she protested. "Your real, real self came uppermost, I am sure, in your behavior to me. You were perfectly lovely, even if you didn't understand me as I wanted you to do—as you do now."
"Dearest!" he whispered. "You never loved him as you do me, did you?"
That little laugh that first charmed him filled the pause.
"Don't say 'him!'" she commanded. "Think of the original absurdity of being jealous of a rival, and that rival yourself! And remember that 'he' was my sweetheart, and for my own sake, don't abuse him. Why, it was you all the time; and I always felt, even at the worst, that hidden in the Brassfield personality was the one man for me in all the world. It was this woman's instinct, that men never believe in, and the girl's eyesight. I look at you, and I know you are the same. Don't slander yourself as you appeared in your other mental clothes. I won't have it—but don't change back, dear!"
"But really," said Elizabeth, "is it necessary for us to live in Bellevale?"
"Would you go away—with me?"