[CHAPTER I. THE FALL OF A METEOR.]
[CHAPTER II. TOO LATE.]
[CHAPTER III. "SWEETHEART, GOOD-BY."]
[CHAPTER IV. RENUNCIATION]
[CHAPTER V. WHAT THE WINNER'S HAND THREW BY.]
[CHAPTER VI. LULU.]
[CHAPTER VII. "I HATE IT—I HATE HER!"]
[CHAPTER VIII. "BUT AS FOR HER, SHE STAID AT HOME."]
[CHAPTER IX. "WHEN A WOMAN WILL, SHE WILL."]
[CHAPTER X. AT THE CAPITOL.]
[CHAPTER XI. "IT MAY BE FOR YEARS, AND IT MAY BE FOREVER."]
[CHAPTER XII. "FATE HAS DONE ITS WORST."]
[CHAPTER XIII. ON THE OCEAN.]
[CHAPTER XIV. "IN HIS HEART CONSENTING TO A PRAYER GONE BY."]
[CHAPTER XV. "HOPE SPRINGS ETERNAL IN THE HUMAN BREAST."]
[CHAPTER XVI. "SMILING AT GRIEF."]
[CHAPTER XVII. "TO BE, OR NOT TO BE."]
[CHAPTER XVIII. "OTHER REFUGE HAVE I NONE."]
[CHAPTER XIX. A NEW YEAR'S GIFT.]
[CHAPTER XX. WEDDING CARDS.]
[CHAPTER XXI. "RUE."]
[CHAPTER XXII. ON TIPTOE FOR A FLIGHT.]
[CHAPTER XXIII. IN MEMPHIS.]
[CHAPTER XXIV. LULU TO HER MOTHER.]
[CHAPTER XXV. THE PATHOS OF A QUIET LIFE.]
[CHAPTER XXVI. LULU TO HER MOTHER.]
[CHAPTER XXVII. "NEARER MY GOD TO THEE."]
[CHAPTER XXVIII. LULU TO HER MOTHER.]
[CHAPTER XXIX. LAST WORDS.]
[CHAPTER XXX. "BABY FINGERS, WAXEN TOUCHES."]
[CHAPTER XXXI. AT HER FEET.]
[CHAPTER I.]
THE FALL OF A METEOR.
"Once those eyes, full sweet, full shy,
Told a certain thing to mine;
What they told me I put by,
Oh, so careless of the sign.
Such an easy thing to take,
And I did not want it then;
Fool! I wish my heart would break—
Scorn is hard on hearts of men."
—Jean Ingelow.
It was 1866, on the evening of a lovely spring day, and my heroine was gathering flowers in one of the loveliest of the lovely gardens of that sea-port city, Norfolk, Virginia.
A lovely garden indeed, with its spacious area, its graveled walks and fountains, its graceful pavilions, its beautiful flowers, and the tasteful villa that rose in the midst of this terrestrial paradise looked very attractive outlined whitely against the dark green of the lofty grove of trees stretching far into its rear. Built on the suburbs of the city, in the portion of it known as Ocean View, you could scarcely have imagined a fairer prospect than that which met the eyes of the two gentlemen who idly smoked and talked on the wide piazza fronting the sea.
The sun was setting in a blue May sky, sinking slowly and sadly beneath the level of the sea, while far away, just faintly outlined by its fading beams, glimmered the white sails and tapering spars of an outward-bound ship. How lonely it looked on that vast ocean in the fading light,
"Like the last beam that reddens over one—
That sinks with those we love below the verge."