Why did I love her? Curious fool, be still!
Is human love the fruit of human will?
Engaged to another—whose ring was doubtless on her finger—another, who had the privilege of kissing and caressing her, while I had but a formal interview, a park rail between, and the eyes of an observant old groom upon us. I felt as jealous as a Turk or Spaniard at the idea. One day I briefly implored her to meet me a-foot in another part of the park. She agreed to do so, and we had the opportunity of an explanation. I shall never forget how charming my dark-eyed and dark-haired beauty looked in a yellow crape bonnet—that tint ever so suitable to a brunette—with violet flowers between it and her pure complexion.
In language that was broken, but which the emotions of my heart inspired, I told her of the enchantment her society was to me; of the love that was becoming a part of my nature, the love that had been so almost ever since I had seen her, and led me to treasure her handkerchief (which I then drew from my breast); but, I added, that as she was plighted to another—more than all, as she was so rich and I so poor, I had come to the bitter resolution of seeing her no more, and quitting England for some distant colony.
"You love me then?" she asked, calmly, and with downcast eyes.
"Love you! Oh, words cannot tell you how fondly, Gertrude."
"Then I, too, am the victim of circumstances. By the manoeuvres of mamma, who is a great matchmaker, in the very year of my début in London she contrived, I scarcely know how, to have me engaged to a man for whom I cared nothing then, and, oh, how much less now! A young girl of eighteen, his presence dazzled, his attentions flattered me, and that was the whole matter. I tolerated him. I have done all I can to delay the marriage for many months by feigning illness; but papa and mamma say that to make a regular break off will prove such an esclandre in society. Yet is my life, all my future, to be sacrificed for the myth we call society? I foresee too clearly what my fate will be, to pass through existence unloving and unloved; but it is heaven's will, or rather mamma's pleasure."
"Oh, that I were rich, Gertrude, or that men could not stigmatise me as an adventurer and fortune-hunter, as they will be sure to do, if I—I——"
"Did what?"
"Proposed the alternative."
"Fear nothing, Fred, but speak. I need advice."