“No, sir; and more’s the pity, for I should like to know it, but she seems very anxious to see you, and more’s the pity, that she should be kept so long waiting.”
I descended the stairs, entered the parlour, and stood face to face with Jessie H—.
She appeared to be suffering from some acute mental agony; and when I took her hand I could feel her fingers trembling in my grasp. A hectic flush overspread her cheeks; and her eyes looked as though she had been weeping. Her whole appearance was that of a person struggling to restrain the violent expression of some overwhelming sorrow.
“Jessie! What has happened?” I asked. “There is something wrong? You look as if there was—you look ill, Jessie.”
“Yes,” she made answer. “Something has happened; something that has destroyed my happiness for ever.”
“Tell me what it is, Jessie. Tell me all. You know that I will assist you, in any way that is in my power.”
“I do not know that, Rowland. There was a time when you might have saved me; but now it is too late—too late to appease my aching heart. I have waited a long while in anxious doubt; and, perhaps, would have died with the secret in my breast, had I not met you again. It would have been better so. Oh! Rowland, after meeting you once more in this strange land, all the memories of the past came over me, only to fill my soul with sadness and despair. Then it was that my long pent-up grief gave way; and my heart felt shattered. Rowland! I have come to you in my misery, not to accuse you of being its cause; but to tell you that you alone could have prevented it. No mortal could live with more happiness than I, did I but know that you had the slightest love for me. Even should we never meet again, there would be joy in the thought that your love was, or had been mine.”
“Jessie! Can you speak thus when—”
“Peace, Rowland! hear me out. I am nearly mad. I will tell you all—all that I have suffered for you. For that reason have I come here. They want me to marry a man I do not love. Give me your counsel, Rowland! Is it not wrong for me to marry him, when I cannot love him—when I love only you?”
“Jessie, I cannot hear you talk thus. I told you, when we parted in Australia that I loved another. I have met that other since; and I find that she is still true to me. I hope never to hear you speak so despondingly again. To all, life is sorrow; and we should pray for strength to bear it. Fulfil cheerfully the promises you have made. We can still be friends and you may yet be happy.”