All around are blest and glad,
In the paths of pleasure straying—
My poor heart alone is sad.
Spring in vain unfolds each treasure,
Filling all the earth with bliss;
Who in life can e’er take pleasure,
When is seen its dark abyss?”
Although Mr. Moore had schooled himself to meet the blow that some day, sooner or later, he should hear of the marriage of Queenie Trevalyn, when that day arrived the shock almost killed him; he was dazed, bewildered, stunned by it. All of a sudden his splendid courage and pride gave way, as did his self-control, and lying there in the long grass where he had fallen, he sobbed like a child—and it was thus that Jess had found him.
He did not try to rise as the girl bent over him; indeed, all his strength seemed suddenly to have left him. Jess’ sweet pity and sympathy, as she stroked his face with her little hands, soft and cool as rose leaves, were very acceptable to him just then, in the first throb of his bitter woe.
“I am very sure you are ill, and will not let any one know,” she declared. “Do let me help you to this bench, where you can sit down until you are able to come to the house. In the meantime, I will go and fetch you a glass of cold water from the old well; that will revive you very quickly.”