“Dying, poor girl, dying! And I loved her, oh, I loved her better than my life!” the man cried, sinking on his knees by the bed, and pressing his lips to the cold little hand that lay outside the cover.
“Then you were going to marry the poor young lady?” asked Mrs. Cline.
“No, for she had rejected my suit, telling me she had loved once and her faith had been destroyed forever. She was very unhappy, I know, over her broken lovedream, but I still hoped on, believing that in time she might forget her false lover and turn to me. In all our leading parts I was cast as her lover, and I threw my whole soul into everything, hoping to win her at last. Alas! all is over, and her sweet life has fallen beneath the machinations of a cowardly enemy,” the man moaned, staggering up to his feet, with a look of despair that touched the woman’s heart.
“I am so sorry for you, sir,” she murmured, putting the corner of her white apron to her eyes, that were wet with tears.
He thanked her with a look, and added:
“While she lives, Mrs. Cline, see that she receives the best of attention, and look to me to settle all expenses to—the last!” his voice breaking over the word.
“Oh, sir, the Bonairs have already pledged themselves to pay everything. A trained nurse is coming within the hour, and the physician will be in frequently,” she replied.
“May I see Mr. Bonair? Will you take my card to him?” asked the manager.
She assented, and he was kept waiting some time, while she related to Charley Bonair every word he had uttered, faithfully describing the emotion he had displayed.
Charley Bonair was lying on his couch very pale and restless, and he grew almost ghastly as the tale ran on.