"I thought you were going to take a year at Cambridge."
"I did intend to, but I found it too expensive. Besides, I thought I wouldn't bother finishing my course. I am doing some work along the journalistic line at present. I just came to Toronto last night, and intend to leave Tuesday or Wednesday."
In the first moment of her surprise she had forgotten everything except that Clarence was an old friend from home; but now, as he walked beside her, it all came back like a flash—the memory of that night last summer when she had seen him last. She grew suddenly silent and embarrassed. She longed to ask him about Marie; she wondered if they were engaged, and if so where she was, but she soon controlled herself and asked him about his trip to England, about his mother, about his work, about Edith and everything else of possible or impossible interest. She was relieved, without knowing why, that it was only a few blocks to her boarding-place. He lingered a moment as he said good-night, and something in his look touched her a little. Only the stirring of old memories. She hardly knew whether she was pleased or not to meet him again; but as she entered her room in the darkness her dream seemed to flash across her memory and a tender voice said, "Follow me."
Clarence strolled a little way into the park, pondering on the past. He had never asked Beth for an explanation of her farewell note. He naturally supposed that Arthur Grafton had gone directly to her that night and caused the rupture. He wondered if Arthur were in love with her. Then he turned suddenly and walked back by St. Mary's Street to Yonge. The street was almost deserted; there was only one figure in sight, a tall man drawing nearer. There was No.——, where he had left Beth at the door. He had just passed a few more doors when a familiar voice startled him. It was Arthur Grafton! Clarence felt ill at ease for a moment, but Arthur's tone was so kind it dispelled his embarrassment. They talked for a few moments, then parted; and Clarence, looking back a moment later, saw Arthur ring the bell at Beth's boarding-place. A peculiar look, almost a sneer, crossed his face for a moment.
"Ah, he is going in to spend the evening with his beloved," he thought.
And Clarence resolved, then and there, not to call on Beth the following day, as he had intended.
But Arthur proceeded absently to the room Marie had formerly occupied, without the slightest idea that Beth had lived in the house with him nearly two months. It was strange, but though he had seen all the other girls in the house he had never seen Beth. He had not enquired her address the year before, not wishing to know. He wished to have nothing to do with Clarence Mayfair's promised wife. She was nothing to him. Should he encourage the love he felt for another's wife? No! He had loved with all the strength of that love that comes but once to any human heart, and he had suffered as only the strong and silent can suffer; but he had resolved to bury his pain, and it had given his face a sterner look. So he lay down to rest that night all unconscious that Beth was in the room just overhead; that he had heard her footsteps daily, even listened to her humming little airs to unrecognizable tunes; but the sight of Clarence Mayfair had aroused the past, and he did not sleep till late.
The following afternoon, as Beth sat studying in her room after lectures, she heard a faint tap at her door, a timid knock that in some way seemed to appeal strangely to her. She opened the door—and there stood Marie! In the first moment of her surprise Beth forgot everything that had separated them, and threw both arms about her in the old child-like way. She seated her in the rocker by the window and they talked of various things for a while, but Beth noticed, now and then, an uneasy look in her eyes.
"She has come to tell me she is going to marry Clarence, and she finds it difficult, poor girl," thought Beth, with a heart full of sympathy.
"Beth," said Marie at last, "I have wronged you. I have come here to ask you to forgive me."