‘But at last there came a pause. I stood all vibrating with thunder,
Which my soul had used. The silence drew her face up like a caul.
Could you guess what word she uttered? She looked up, as if in wonder,
With tears beaded on her lashes, and said—‘Bertram!’ it was all.’
“Yes—that instant glance ‘was all;’ and yet it thrilled me with love and hope. Its yearning—almost agonized—tenderness, I cannot describe to you. I never saw such a glance from woman before or since.”
St. Julian rose, and began pacing the carpet before me, as he spoke, more rapidly.
“Yet, that very night, we spoke coldly and proudly to each other. She, perhaps—well I cannot tell for what reason; but it stung me, and I answered bitterly and hastily, and said to myself I would never see her again.
“We did not meet again for more than a year, strange as it seems, moving in the same small orbit. I passed her now and then with a beating heart, as I recognized her face or form upon the side-walk: she—with the same calm smile of recognition; I—with a cold and hasty bow. I grew almost to hate her—yet I could not: in the depth of my heart, I yearned to speak to her again; though I called her selfish and a coquette, most of all, in memory of that look.
“But, at last, we met; as unexpectedly as at first, and in the same house. There was every thing to remind me of the past. She was unchanged, save a softened manner, and that her dark dress was relieved by crimson ornaments, which suited her wonderfully well.
“She came toward me with extended hand, and as if we had just met from a journey.