We had approached the Diana fountain, and she stood pensively beside it for a moment watching the shoal of lazy carp, some of which have lived in that pond for over a century.
“I do not wish to discuss my own affairs of the heart, Muriel,” I burst forth passionately, as I stood beside her. “Yet, as one who holds you in esteem, who has ever striven for your welfare, I feel somehow that I ought to be still your confidant.”
“You only wish to wring my secret from me because it amuses you,” she protested, her eyes flashing resentfully. “You know that’s the truth. When you have nothing better to do you bring me out, just because I’m company. If you had held me in esteem, as you declare you do, you would have at least wished me farewell before you went abroad for the winter.”
This neglect had annoyed her, and in sudden pique she was reproaching me in a manner quite unusual to her. I had never before seen her assume so resentful an air.
“No,” I responded, pained that she should thus charge me with amusing myself at leisure with her society, although when I reflected I was compelled to admit within myself that her words were the absolute truth. For several years I had merely treated her as a friend to be sought when I had no other person to dine with or accompany me out. Yes, of late, I had neglected Muriel sadly.
“I don’t think you are quite fair,” I said. “That I hold you in esteem you must have seen long, long ago, and the reason why I did not wish you farewell was because—well, because I was just then very much upset.”
“You had met a woman whom you believed you loved,” she said harshly. “It is useless to try and conceal the truth from me.”
“I have not attempted to conceal anything,” I responded, nevertheless starting at her mention of that woman who had been enveloped in such mystery, and who, after a few days’ madness, had now so completely gone out of my life. How could she have known?
In answer she looked me straight in the face with her dark, fathomless eyes.
“You have told me nothing of your love,” she exclaimed in a hoarse tone. “If you cannot trust me with your confidences as once you used to do, then we can no longer remain the fast friends we have been. We must drift apart. You have already shown that you fear to tell me of your fascination—a fascination that was so near to becoming fatal. You know nothing of Aline Cloud—of who or what she is—yet you love her blindly!” Her well-arched brows knit themselves, her face became at that instant pale and hard set, and she held her breath, as if a sudden determination had swept upon her.