[CHAPTER XLIII.]
CISSY'S PATHETIC LOVE STORY.
"Oh, would I knew thy heart! Thine eye seems truthful!
Thy smile is bright, thy voice is low and sweet;
Thou seemst the very counterpart of honor
When thou art kneeling suppliant at my feet.
But eyes we may not trust with truth implicit,
And smiles are oft but false lights to allure;
A man may smile, and smile, and be a villain;
Fair fruit is often rotten at the core."
Francis S. Smith.
Miss Carroll saw that there was no escaping the importunities of the charming little tease, so she answered, with pretending carelessness:
"Taking your last question first, I met him five years ago. As to where, it was at the sea-shore. We used to go there every summer before dear grandpa failed in business, and had to move out to the country, to the only home left him, the little farm where I first knew you."
"Yes, go on," breathed Geraldine, eagerly, and with a pensive little sigh, Miss Carroll continued:
"We met at the sea-shore, as I have told you—at that gay resort, Atlantic City. We danced together in the evenings, flirted on the sands and in the water, rode, boated, watched the sea by moonlight, and he taught me how to swim and to row. I was very happy."
"I know just how it was," sighed Geraldine.