A PROUD GIRL'S HUMILITY.
"The roses that his hands have plucked
Are sweet to me, are death to me;
Between them, as through living flowers,
I pass, I clutch, I crush them, see!
The bloom for her, the thorn for me!"
--CRANDALL.
Ethel had seen them go. At last, unable to restrain her impatience,
she followed them halfway to the river. She met Lord Chester returning
alone.
Ethel stood still, looking at Arthur with her whole soul in her dark,
passionate eyes.
He struggled with his feelings for a moment, then the pain and
imploring in her face won his pity. He took her hand, whispering gently:
"Dear Ethel!"
"Oh, Arthur, you forgive me!" she panted, and leaned her regal head
against his shoulder.
The humility of the proud girl won for her more than all her pride
could have done--his pitying regard. He put his arm tenderly about her,
and held her close for a moment, and he could never tell why she lifted
her head so suddenly and drew back in silent pain.
As she leaned against him the odor of crushed violets came to her with
sickening sweetness--violets, her sister's favorite flowers. She had
seen Precious wearing them awhile ago, and she guessed that now they
were hidden on Lord Chester's breast. She would hate them now all her
life, those purple-blue globes of elusive sweetness.
But she dared not give voice to her jealous pain. She could only smile
up in his face and murmur:
"You forgive me, dear? You will love me again?"
"Everything shall be as it was before," he answered, and kissed her
lips--not such kisses as he had given Precious just now, but a light
caress, one that she knew was a duty kiss.
A bitter sigh burst from her lips, and she felt for a moment as if she
would like to fall down dead at his feet in her shame and humiliation
over the poor victory she had won.
But he was speaking again, gravely, quietly:
"Let me take you to the house, Ethel, for I must leave you very soon. I
must go back to Washington to-night."
"But why so soon?" she pouted, and he answered:
"I had letters from England to-day, calling me home at once. There is
something gravely wrong, but neither the lawyer nor my father, the
earl, gave me any particulars, only they said I must come as soon as
possible."
He paused, touched by the gasping sob on her lips.
"Do not take it so hard, Ethel, dear. I will write often, and return
long before the date of our marriage this winter. Meanwhile I will
be making soft my English nest for my beautiful bride. But I am very
curious over the matter that has called me home, and I shall be in New
York to-morrow, and sail on the first ship."