Over these questions I pondered long, and painfully—only to find them unanswered.
Jessie H— was beautiful beyond a doubt. There was a charm in her beauty that might have won many a heart; and mine had not been in different to it. There was music in her voice—as it gave utterance to the thoughts of her pure, artless mind to which I liked to listen. And yet there was something in my remembrance of Lenore—who had never loved me, and who could never be mine—sweeter and more enchanting than the music of Jessie’s voice, or the beauty of her person!
Volume Three—Chapter Twenty Five.
Jessie’s Suitor.
Next morning I repeated my visit to Saint John’s Wood. I again saw Jessie. She expressed herself much pleased to see me; but upon her features was an expression that pained me to behold. That face, once bright and joyous, and still beautiful, gave evidence that some secret sorrow was weighing upon her heart.
“I know not whether I ought to be glad, or grieved, Rowland,” said she. “I am certainly pleased to see you. Nothing could give me greater joy; and yet I know that our meeting again must bring me much sorrow.”
“How can this be?” I asked, pretending not to understand her.
“Ever since you left us on the Yarra Yarra, I have been trying to forget you. I had resolved not to see you again. And now, alas! my resolves have all been in vain. I know it is a misfortune for me to have met you; and yet I seem to welcome it. It was wrong of you to come here yesterday; and yet I could bless you for coming.”