"He did not say for how long," returned Betty. "He said he was called away very suddenly, and would write me as soon as he reached his destination, and tell me particulars. I am expecting a letter tonight surely—it is two days now since he went."
Betty's mind dwelt little with Frank. She wondered slightly what could have called him away, but she was rather relieved at his absence. Her thoughts of George were so intense, and her conflicting emotions so difficult to contend with, that she feared she might betray her secret to Frank, who seemed ever watching her every word and look. Sometimes she almost believed he held some suspicion of her trial. She was determined to be true to him, and make him the man he was capable of becoming.
Her sacrifice was great, and as yet, the days were too young, for her to feel much joy in her resolve. She seemed groping in the dark, sure that the course she had taken was right, but seeing no light ahead. But she knew that the day would come, when she would enjoy the happiness of right doing.
When Frank had said goodbye, he had been unusually calm and gentle. His wild love for her seemed subdued. She felt its power, more than that of his usual passionate adoration. His last words came to her with sudden force:
"Betty, you have taught me how to live. What greater thing could a man ask from the woman he loves?"
A letter awaited her as she surmised. When she went to her room, with a new interest she turned to the letter before dressing for supper.
"I must be more interested in you, dear boy," she thought rather regretfully, "I hope I can learn to give you more and more."
She opened and read:
"My own beautiful good one:—This is the last time I may write 'My Own.' Yes, dearest Betty, you are too beautiful and good to be sacrificed upon the altar of one man's selfishness!"
"From this day I shall glory in your freedom. Yes, poor, selfish me has suddenly found out the joy of forgetting self,—a strange, new joy, emanating from your own lovely self!