“But you did, did you not? She was your favourite pupil.”
How uncomfortably keen-sighted this young person seemed to be, in spite of her soft, endearing ways!
“Would you be a little jealous if I said I did?” he asked, regarding her with a scrutinizing look.
“Jealous! Oh no. Why should I? Is she not married? And am I not really and truly your little wife?”
He pressed her hand gently for answer.
“And when you saw her again last Sunday, and saw how beautiful she was,” Edith continued, “you felt sorry that you had lost her—just a little regretful, did you not?”
The vicar hesitated, and then did the most foolish thing a man can do in such circumstances—confessed the truth.
“You will not be vexed, darling, if I say that I did feel regret?”
“You loved her very much?”
“She was my first love.” replied the vicar. “But you must remember it was years ago. Long before I knew you; when I was quite a young man.”