“I know,” she said frankly, “that I should not be indifferent. I know it would almost crush me to the earth, but I trust it would only be for a while, and when I arose again, my soul would be stronger and better for the trial. Mr. Clyde, the only sure refuge from any such sorrow, is to forget one’s self entirely, and live only for the sake of others. That is what I think I should do, and it would be my only chance of safety.”
For one moment Mr. Clyde held her clasped hands in his own, and looked searchingly into her face.
“I know, you good, true soul,” he said, “that you would do thus, for it is precisely the turn which such natures as yours would take, but it would be a hard task for me.”
“It is always easier to advise than to do,” replied Hesper, “and especially in such cases—but Mr. Clyde,” she added, with great earnestness, “I believe you have a nature equal to any such thing, and that the reason of your disappointment, is because God has something better in reserve for you, than a union with a vain, false-hearted woman.”
Her words seemed to have a powerful effect upon him, for he closed his eyes and compressed his lips firmly, while that same quivering expression of anguish which she had so often observed, played around them. It was but for a moment however, and then he started up suddenly.
“Hesper,” he said, “I must not tarry longer, for time flies rapidly. Let me bid you farewell here. I may never see you again, and therefore when I think of you, I want to picture you in my memory as you sit here, like a wood-nymph, with this back ground of moss-covered hills, and the spring violets blooming at your feet.”
He laid his hand upon her head, and gently smoothed away the tresses of soft, brown hair. “God grant,” he continued, “that the blight of wasted affection may never fall upon you, for of all the trials that rend the human heart, there are none which wound it so deeply as those which come through the avenues of the affections.” As he spoke, he bowed his head and imprinted a light kiss upon her forehead. A tear-drop fell upon her cheek, and she knew that his manly heart must be stirred with deep emotions, or it would never manifest itself thus. She glanced up at him timidly. He clasped her hand warmly in his own for a moment, then he suddenly dropped it—took the little violet wreath from her lap, and without casting one backward glance, hastened along the green pathway.
Hesper was bewildered by her feelings. She could not understand herself, and yielding to her motions, she laid her face upon the mossy hill-side and wept like a child. She did not know before, how much she cared for Mr. Clyde, but now it seemed as though one, dear as a brother, was taken from her. Musing deeply upon “life’s mysterious destinies,” she wandered slowly along the wood-path, and then, not wishing to meet him again, she took her way across the hills to the cottage of aunt Nyna.