That lies all shattered now,
Stirring its thrilling tones to tell,
Of thy forgotten vow.’
“At this moment I was startled by a deep sigh near me, and looking up, saw Gerald standing in the deep shadow of the window recess. He was gazing on the singer, who sat directly before him. The lady heard the sigh—their eyes met, and the glance which flashed from them, spoke volumes. For a moment she seemed confused and agitated, then with a look of proud anguish, and a voice that faltered not in its clear, low tones, she finished the song.
‘Farewell—farewell! My dearest hope
Is that we ne’er may meet;
That passing years may teach my heart
To scorn thee, and forget.’
“Her lips quivered, and her pale cheek became crimson as she concluded, and I fancied tears trembled in the depths of her dark, radiant eyes. She turned her face toward Gerald, and for a moment they continued gazing on each other with a look full of sorrowful love, of agony and despair. It was not till she had left the room that I found strength to speak. ‘Who is she?’ I asked. The answer told me the whole story. It was Leonore St. Clair.
“When and how he had met her I knew and thought not. It was enough to know that she loved him—that his whole soul was given to her, and that I—oh God! I was unbeloved. My brain seemed to burn, and my heart ceased to beat—and yet I did not faint. There is a fearful strength in woman’s heart, of which she is unconscious till the hour of her uttermost agony. Turning from the brilliant scene, I passed through the window into the garden. There was one walk which had been left unlighted, and thither my steps were bent. It led to a small temple, which had been erected to Cupid, and a lamp that hung over the altar, showed the figure of the sleeping boy; but the recesses of the temple were in deep shadow. I entered, and threw myself on a seat in the darkest corner. Was it chance, or was it ordered by the mysterious Providence which revealed to me the fearful secret that was to blight my happiness forever?