It was only after the grave closed over him that Norah knew all Jack's remorse on her account. But for Jeannie's wiles their two lives might have been united and happy; but he had loved the little flirt in spite of reason and conscience, and he had paid the penalty. He had, however, made a will three days before he and Norah met in the wood, and to her absolute use he had bequeathed his ample means. He had no near relatives, and his wealth was at his own disposal. In Norah's hands, he knew it would prove a blessing not only to her father and the boys, but to all the poor and friendless within her reach.
Many were the tears she shed by Jack's last resting-place, and gladly would she have given up the wealth he had endowed her with, could he have taken it and lived to use it. She has had suitors many since he died, but they have wooed in vain. Most people think that she has no love to give, and that her heart is buried with Jack.
As to Jeannie, she made a little capital out of her late fiancée's death, and told, in confidence, a little sentimental tale about his devotion and the affection she found herself unable to return as it deserved. It was to a new admirer she told it, and as she wiped away a tear or two she added—
"No doubt my parents were wise to part us. Dear Jack came of a delicate family. He could have had no strength of constitution, or a mere cold would not have killed him. He left all his money to a girl who professed to be my friend, but—"
And then Jeannie stopped, as if she could have told another tale of treachery, but would not.
Later on in the day she listened with apparently artless surprise and pleasure whilst the new admirer sang a quaint little song, in which were these words, glancing the while at the Jeannie present—
"'Where's the way to Jeannie's heart?
That I canna answer;
Here about or there about,
Find it if you can, sir.'"
If the singer had known all!
Girl-readers of this story would doubtless be better pleased if Jeannie had been punished a little, than mated with somebody else, or if she had died instead of poor Jack, and Jack had lived to marry Norah, and be happy ever after. But such an ending would have failed to teach a much-needed lesson, and to show what cruel suffering is brought on true hearts by what girls are in the habit of calling "a mere flirtation." Through such conduct many a man has lost faith in the simplicity and innocence of girlhood and in womanly truth, and has become hard and cynical. He has lived perhaps for many a year—for such wounds do not always kill—but only half a life, since it has been embittered and robbed of its best affections.
Does any girl ask, "Is it possible that one ever lived and acted like Jeannie Bellew?"