Elaine's London wedding had been a great downfall to the hopes of the natives of the Combe; and now they desired to make up for it by welcoming her in a manner suitable to the triumphs she had achieved.
Leon, leaning against the rail aft, as he had done a year ago, saw the assemblage of excited people, and a crowd of memories arose within him. So they had stood, a dark, eager group, on the breezy morning when first the Valley of Avilion had broken upon his gaze. How calm had been his mood, then! How serene his horizon! A tranquil peace was his habit of mind, no storm of passion had come to lash that deep heart of his into swelling waves.
Since that day all had changed. His whole being had suffered revolution. How many sensations had successively dominated his soul! Emotion, excitement, longing, passion, triumph, and reaction.
Yes. It had come. He had realized fully now that the glittering Eden of his dreams was a mirage on desert sand. It was, he judged, his own fault from beginning to end. He had started on a wrong tack. He had begun life all theories and no experience, and one by one his sweet delusions had suffered shipwreck.
He had married with no practical knowledge of women, their wants and their ways; for of course he imagined that all women were like Elsa. He found her unreasonable, exacting, pettish if thwarted, absolutely unsympathetic, and with a mind incapable of comprehending his. All these failings he unhesitatingly ascribed to her sex. He believed that he ought to have been prepared to find her thus merely because she was a woman.
He was passing through the bitter stage of disillusioning which Claud had prophesied for him.
This afternoon he was feeling specially unhappy, for Elsa so disliked the idea of coming to Edge at all that she had been sulky ever since they embarked. He had been impressed with the conviction that it was imperative that she should pay a short visit there, as Miss Ellen, who was failing rapidly, was longing to see her. Accordingly, he had exerted his naturally strong will and carried her off, and she had been making him feel it ever since. To add to her vexation, her maid was always ill on the water; so that Leon was devoutly thankful that the wind had enabled him to make his cruise shorter than he had anticipated.
As the smiling shores of the lovely bay became distinct, he rose and went below to the dainty and exquisite little saloon, where his wife was reclining with a novel.
"Elsa, we are nearly there," he said, "and there is quite a mob collected to watch our arrival."
"No! really! is there?" she said, sitting up with some appearance of interest. "I never thought they would think of giving us a reception. What a pity I did not change my gown! Is it too late?"