“But doesn’t he seem very nice? Isn’t he well educated, and—and—doesn’t he write a fine hand?”
Royall fell into her little trap, and answered:
“Oh, his manner is charming; that’s what made me take up with him first, you know—so frank and friendly; and he seems to be college bred. As for his writing—see,” and he exhibited to the trembling girl some random papers from his notebook, scribbled over with his friend’s name and some poetical quotations.
He did not notice that Daisie trembled, that the color rushed to her cheek and the light to her eyes, from pure joy.
The writing was identical with the poem. Her heart told her the truth. Dallas Bain had written her those sweet verses. He loved her, after all.
“I see how it is,” she thought, with keenest pain. “When he first saw me, his heart went out to me, as did mine to him, in the thrilling glance we exchanged. But he was already pledged to another, and could not retreat in honor; so he dared not trust himself to know me better. That was why the verses breathed such hopeless sadness.”
There was balm in the thought, for his avoidance had wounded her cruelly until she thought she had fathomed the cause.
Alas! Alas! Strange decree of fate. Between this pair, who had never even spoken to each other, only looked into each other’s eyes, love had been born full-grown, though each tried to thrust it away—she, believing it was hopeless; he, because he had been told by a false schemer that she was as silly as she was fair.
“I am sorry now that I sent her the poem. I hope she will never find me out, and gratify her vanity by telling her girl friends about it. When girls are very silly they always boast of their conquests,” thought the young man; and it vexed him sorely that so fair a face should go with a shallow mind—vexed him, too, that her beauty should haunt him so, not dreaming yet that its spell was immortal.
He thought that he must go away, and presently forgetfulness would come. He ought to go away, anyhow, for Royall Sherwood did not seem as friendly as of old—had grown careless and neglectful; and, as for Mrs. Fleming, she was too kind, that was all; and he was afraid that she might assume the supposed prerogative of the new woman, to woo and win.