But alas! it was a dream from which there was no awakening. Blended with great pity and sorrow, she knew and felt now, in all its intensity, the love she had thought about, read about in romance, but never knew till she had met Cecil Falconer; the love, that is, whether found or not, ever a young girl's day-dream.
To all, save Annabelle Erroll, she had to act the part of apparent unconsciousness of, or indifference to, all that was in progress. Abed, it seemed to her that she heard every hour struck by the adjacent clocks, and yet she must have slept a little, as the memory of more than one torturing or tantalising dream told her.
People, however, do get through everything somehow.
In the petty circle of Edinburgh society, the malheur of Falconer spread with many exaggerations, and with much rancour; he was a great bibber, a vaurien, and it was not the first time, by many, that he had been in such a scrape; and there was much lifting up of hands and eyes among the self-righteous who abound in the northern city of the Seven Hills.
Mary resolved to avoid hearing aught on the subject of the nine days' wonder; she paid no idle visits, and was at home but to few; yet, as many of the few were connected with the service, the whole affair, the court-martial, and what was certain to come of it, were freely discussed in spite of her.
And he had no one to console him 'up there,' she would think, as she surveyed resentfully the grand old fortress, with its towers, turrets, and black portholes, which seemed to her but as a great trap, or giant lock, barring in Cecil from her and the world. And all her good-natured friends assured her, that the military trial could only end in dismissal, ruin, and disgrace. Would that she could go to him, and see him once again, and assure him that whatever came to pass, she was his own still.
She was tearless and very quiet. She would not even retort upon Hew's bitter exultation over the affair—an exultation which his detestable nature rendered him incapable of concealing. Her sweet face looked blank and white, and nothing seemed to rouse her.
Kind old Mrs. Garth felt intense pity for her.
'Poor darling,' she would say, while caressing her; 'no tears yet—would that I could see you weep!'
'Why?'