“Time enough to tell him if she dies!” was her resentful thought, while she wondered if he would grieve much, for she knew he had given the fickle girl the wealth of a wonderful love.
“We break the glass whose sacred wine
To some beloved health we drain,
Lest future pledges, less divine,
Should e’er the hallowed toy profane.
And thus I broke a heart that poured
Its tide of feelings out for thee,
In draughts by after-times deplored,
Yet dear to memory.”
Mrs. Maxwell found Mae Sweetland very quiet and apathetic in those days after Rolfe’s going away, and she was very patient and tender with the poor girl. She guessed that she was ashamed and repentant over her violent self-betrayal the night Rolfe brought his bride home, and that she was trying to tear from her heart its hopeless dream of love.