Ada threw herself down weeping in a paroxysm of the bitterest despair, sobbing:
“I must have it all out with myself now, and that must be the last of it. He belongs to another, and I must forget him!”
Hot, burning tears flowed down her cheeks, and she did not restrain them. She said to herself that it was the funeral of hopes she had dared to vaguely cherish, she had scarcely understood why.
He had been kind to her, very kind, every time they met, that was true, but then, of course, it was only because she was Eva’s friend. No doubt Eva had asked him to do so.
But believing that Eva never intended to marry him, she had let some romantic fancies creep into her mind along with admiration for his sparkling black eyes, broad shoulders, and musical voice.
When the tempest of grief and disappointment was over she sat up and scolded herself.
“Ada Winton, you have been a silly goose!” she cried, wiping her eyes. “Whatever made you even hope he could look twice at you, you little country mouse? Even if Eva hadn’t married him, he would have turned to some others of his set, rich and fashionable girls, not you, who have no wealth, but a pretty face and true heart. Now, don’t waste another tender hope on him, but put self aside, and try to teach Eva to love him as he deserves to be loved, not with the poor half-hearted fancy she is giving for his genuine passion.”
The next morning she was calm and composed, and deceived every one with her superb acting.
Mrs. Hamilton, who already thought her a charming girl, was more pleased than ever, and condescended to say graciously:
“Really, all the West Virginia girls I have seen are beautiful and charming. It is no wonder my fastidious brother loved and married one.”