"All that has gone by," I said. "In those days of our experience we
believed that our mutual liking was actual love. Even if we now smile
at our recollections, they were, nevertheless, the happiest hours of all
our lives. Love is never so fervent and devoted as in early youth."
"Ah!" she answered in a serious tone. "You are quite right. I have
never since those days known what it is to really love."
I glanced at her sharply. Her eyes were cast upon the ground in sudden
melancholy.
Was that speech of hers a veiled declaration that she loved me still! I
held my breath for an instant, then looking straight before me, saw,
standing a few yards away, in conversation with Mrs. Blain, a female
figure in a boating costume of cream flannel braided with coral pink.
"Look?" I exclaimed, glad to avoid responding. "You have another
visitor, I think."
She glanced in the direction I indicated, then hastened forward to greet
the new-comer.
The slim-waisted figure turned, and next second I recognised the
strikingly handsome profile of Eva Glaslyn, the mysterious woman I
secretly loved with such passionate ardour and affection.
"Come, Frank, let me introduce you," Mary cried, after enthusiastically
kissing her friend.
I stepped forward, and as I did so, she turned and fixed on me her
large, blue laughing eyes. Not a look, not an expression of her pure
countenance was altered.
As I gazed into those eyes I saw that they were as dear as the purest
crystal, and that I could look through them straight into her very soul.
I bowed and grasped the tiny, refined hand she held forth to me--that
soft hand which I had once before touched--when it was cold and
lifeless.