How freshly it all came back to him, that day but two months ago, when he had followed her to restore her truant veil, and first looked into the luring blue eyes that had thrilled his heart with passion.
What a mighty passion for the shallow coquette had been born in his heart at that meeting—passion followed by pain! Ah, how he wished now that he had never met her, that he had let the blue veil blow away on the heedless wind! The little acts of kindness had brought him a harvest of pain.
Even now, despite all, he was waiting and watching with painful yearning for another sight of her face.
But the moments waned, and she came not.
He saw the other work people of the town going home through the falling dusk. Four of Miss Bray's girls dropped in at the post office, flashing surprised glances at his handsome, familiar face, wondering at his return; then they went out again, and he thought that presently Liane and Dolly would be passing also.
But he was disappointed, and presently he realized that it was useless waiting longer.
"Dean must have married her and taken her off already, but it must have been a very quiet affair. I have seen nothing of his marriage in the papers," he thought with strange disquiet, as he came down the steps.
A handsome carriage, with prancing gray horses, in a silver-mounted harness, with liveried footman, suddenly drew up at the curbstone, and a brilliant face flushed on him from the window.
"Oh, Jesse, what a surprise! How do you do? Won't you look in our box and bring me out my mail?" cried Roma Clarke gushingly.
There was nothing for it but obedience. Jesse came out to her with two letters and a paper, and as she took them, she threw open the carriage door, urging sweetly: