"You should not have wasted your love upon her: she is a heartless girl. I expect she drew you on, and then turned round and said she did not mean it."
"Oh yes, she did draw me on," he replied, in a tone full of anguish; "otherwise, I never——But it was my fault also. I ought to have remembered the many barriers that divided us; the——"
"You ought to have remembered that she is an incorrigible flirt, that is what you ought to have remembered," interrupted Mr. St. John.
"Well, well," sighed Henry, "I cannot speak of these things to you: less to you than to any one."
"Is that an enigma? I should think you could best speak of them to me, because I have guessed your secret, and the ice is broken."
Again Henry Arkell sighed. "Speaking of them at all will do no good; and I would now rather think of the future than of the past. My future lies there," he added, pointing to the blue sky, which, as seen from his window, formed a canopy over the cathedral tower. "She has, in all probability, many years before her here: Mr. St. John, if she and you spend those years together, will you sometimes talk of me? I should not like to be quite forgotten by you—or by her."
"Spend them together!" he echoed. "Another enigma. What should bring me spending my years with Georgina Beauclerc?"
Henry withdrew his hands from his eyes, and turned them on Mr. St. John. "Do you think she will never be your wife?"
"She! Georgina Beauclerc! No, thank you."
Henry Arkell's face wore an expression that Mr. St. John understood not. "It was for your sake she treated me so ill. She loves you, Mr. St. John. And I think you know it."