We can think of them
without a far-away look in our eyes, and can speak of them without a
tremor in our voice or a sudden change of expression in our
countenance.
"If she loves him" said I, in my reverie, that night, and why should
she not, it is no wonder that this strange likeness should be
disagreeable to her. It has given me some pleasure to see this thing
that only looks like me so carefully stowed away in his locket. There
is every reason why the same discovery should grieve her--if she cares
for him.
I then went back in memory to that dull March afternoon, I had passed
in quiet reflection before the library fire. How vividly it all rose
up before me. My sudden awakening from a stupid slumber, my firm
conviction that some one else was in the room, my timid whispering
question, the tinkling sound of something falling upon the floor, and
my subsequent surprise on finding this queer, unfamiliar trinket lying
at my feet. Now that it was proven to be Ernest Dalton's, the mystery
was thicker than ever. How had it come there? I asked myself this
perplexing question over and over again. Perhaps it had been lying in
the folds of the upholstering for days or months, and that by chance I
had disturbed it when I threw myself wearily upon the sofa. Mr. Dalton
often came to sit and talk with my father of an evening when we were
out. In fact we were never surprised to see him drop in at any moment,
and it was quite likely, I concluded, that he had lost the little
ornament without knowing it, and as no one of the household had made
mention of it to him, as they would have done had it been found, he
evidently thought it useless to speak about it under the
circumstances, and out of his silence and mine grew this new aspect of
affairs.
Pages:
171
172
173
174
175
176
177
178
179
180
181
182
183
184
185
186
187
188
189
190
191
192
193
194
195