He stooped and kissed the child’s blind eyes.
Chapter Seven.
The Girl who Asked for Happiness.
Fate is a sorry trickster, and a study of life leads one to the conclusion that the less that is asked of her the less does she bestow.
Meriel, on her part, had made few demands—riches and power had for her no allure; her highest ambition was to attain that quiet domestic happiness enjoyed by thousands of her sister women. She wanted to be loved and to love in return; to transform some trivial villa into a home, and reign therein over her little kingdom; and on her twenty-eighth birthday fate had so wrought the tangled skein that she found herself in the position of unpaid attendant to an old school friend, while her heart was racked by a hopeless passion for the same friend’s husband.
The way of it was this. Meriel and Flora had been school friends, between whom existed the affection which often develops between a strong and a weak character when they are thrown into intimate companionship. Flora was pretty and gay, qualities which in a young girl blind the eyes of beholders to many drawbacks. Meriel was quite resigned to be blinded herself, but some two or three years after the two girls had left school she heard with amazement that Flora was engaged to be married to Geoffrey Sterne, one of the most prominent litterateurs of the day.
Geoffrey Sterne and—Flora! How was it that the cleverest of men so often chose weak, clinging women as companions for life? It seemed to Meriel inconceivable that this giant among men should have given his love to an animated doll; but Flora wrote gushing accounts of her fiancé’s devotion, and declared that she was as happy as the day was long. It seemed to Meriel that she must indeed be the happiest of women!
Circumstances prevented Mend’s presence at the wedding, and for the next five years she did not see her friend. A child was born and died; rumour reported that Sterne was working incessantly at a work which was to be the magnum opus of his life; it was said also that his wife was in delicate health, and had abandoned the dissipations of town. Then at the end of the five years came an invitation in Flora’s handwriting. Meriel was not to be vexed with her for being silent for so long; she had always intended to write, simply dreadful how many things were left undone! Really and truly, she had never forgotten the dear old days. Would Meriel come down and pay her a nice long visit? Geoffrey liked to have friends staying in the house; he thought Flora was too much alone; but some visitors were such a nuisance—always poking about. Meriel was not like that—she was always a dear old thing. Would Thursday suit? The 3:13. The car should be waiting at the station. Flora sent heaps of love...