She then knew she was beautiful--one of the most beautiful women in the country. Many men had sought her before Blake asked her for her love. But up to his coming she was heart-whole. She had never seriously considered any man. She thought little of the sex, of the race, herself included. She took but a weak interest in this world, and, up to the advent of her only sweetheart, would have stepped out of it any day without much reluctance. She was a dreamer, and told herself the hero of her dreams was not human. Then came Tom Blake, and forth went her whole heart to him. She gave him all the love she had to give. She told him her life had hitherto been dull, without expectation, hope, love, sunlight; but that, as he was now with her, and would, in spite of all opposition, be beside her all her life, her soul was filled with ineffable hope, with delicious love, and the dream-romance of her life had taken substantial form, which would be a thousand times sweeter than she had ever dared to figure in her thoughts.
Her lover had no money. He had lost his patrimony. Her father had nothing to give her, and----
And what?
How was it to be? How could they live on nothing? She had been brought up a lady, but her father was hopelessly in debt--over head and ears in debt--and if he were ever so willing to do so, he was powerless to help them now, and could leave them nothing later.
True--most sadly true. But what of that? Was Tom not her lover?--and was he going to die of hunger? Did he not think he could get enough money somehow to keep him from falling by the way?
No doubt. But she had been tenderly, luxuriously brought up. He had no means of keeping her in any such position as she had all along in life enjoyed.
But he could get bread? Not literally only bread, but as much as they paid a gamekeeper or a groom?
Oh, nonsense! Of course he could. But gentlefolk could not live on the wages of a gamekeeper or a groom.
Did he love her?
Very much. But a gamekeeper got no more----