“I wish to God I could take you with me,” he said tenderly after a silence. “Dear girl, you know this grief of yours would break my heart, only that it shows how well you love me. I am proud of every tear.” She looked at him with an expression he could not read; it was full of unutterable emotion—love, anguish, compassion.
“Oh,” she said passionately, “nothing remains long with us but sorrow and regret. Every good thing may be gone tomorrow—lost! Do you know, I sometimes dream or have waking visions of a past time in my life? But when I try to grasp the fleeting memories they leave me groping in darkness. Can’t you help me, Reuel?”
With a laugh he kissed away her anxieties, although he was dismayed to know that at most any time full memory might return. He must speak to Aubrey. Then he closed her lips with warm lingering kisses.
“Be a good girl and pray for your husband’s safety, that God may let us meet again and be happy! Don’t get excited. That you must guard against.”
And Reuel Briggs, though his eyes were clouded with tears, was a happy man at heart that day. Just that once he tasted to the full all that there is of happiness in human life. Happy is he who is blessed with even one perfect day in a lifetime of sorrow. His last memory of her was a mute kiss and a low “God bless you,” broken by a sob. And so they parted.
In the hall below Molly Vance met him with a sisterly kiss for good-bye; outside in the carriage sat Mr. Vance, Sr., Charlie and Aubrey waiting to drive to the depot.
Reuel Briggs, Charlie Vance and their servant, Jim Titus, sailed from New York for Liverpool, England, on the first day of July.
The departure of the young men made a perceptible break in the social circle at Vance Hall. Mr. Vance buried himself in the details of business and the two girls wandered disconsolately about the house and grounds attended by Livingston, who was at the Hall constantly and pursued them with delicate attentions.