He realized now that always, up to the present moment, there had been a little spark of hope glowing warmly in his heart that some day Eva might repent the prejudice that had parted their lives and call him back again.
The die was cast, the hope was dead. He remained away a while to bury the corpse. Then he called on Ada again, but, quite fortunately for Eva, she was at the opera with her father and her lover, and did not have to bear the pain of knowing he was in the house.
He forced himself to speak calmly of the coming event, yet the clever girl heard the pain in his voice, and saw the ravages that grief had wrought in his looks the last few days. Her generous heart ached for him—for Eva, too, and for Reggie, who was going to get so poor a sham of love in return for his devotion.
She knew it would pain her visitor to praise his rival, so she only said:
“The family are well pleased with the match, and Eva believes she will be very happy with him.”
“Oh, no doubt,” sarcastically.
“And yet,” with gentle sympathy, “I believe she might have been happier still with her first love, had not a cruel fate forced you apart.”
“She was wrong; she had no right to throw me over so coldly and unforgivingly. All my fault was love of her, and even the law acquitted me of blood guiltiness in her cousin’s death. As for that foolish vendetta between our families, it were best that we had ended it by marriage. Oh, how it all comes back to me—our love, the broken marriage! I must not dwell on it; that way madness lies,” the poor fellow cried, giving way to passionate vehemence long repressed.
“You do not know how I feel for you,” she sighed from the depths of her own kindred pain. “Can you bear to come to the wedding?”
He laughed bitterly.