I conveyed Evelyn to their residence,
and, after also inviting them to our proposed dinner, we returned to our
temporary home.
I was careful not to intrude on Evelyn during the evening, leaving her
alone to struggle with the melancholy which I knew the incidents of the
day must induce.
Frank arrived early the next day. Evelyn's presence had evidently
renewed the power of his former feelings. Indeed, had opportunity
offered, he was prepared to give way to them, but I was careful that
none should be afforded. When our other guests arrived he was thrown
into unexpected confusion. The conflict between the past and the present
love--the ideal and the real--the shadow and the substance--the memory
and the actual--was painful, yet ridiculous to look upon. I calmly
watched, without giving any symptom of observation, the results of my
strategy, and never did a chess-player more rejoice over the issue of a
hard-fought contest. Evelyn, as I perceived, soon discovered all the
circumstances, and I could trace the conflict of passions in her
bosom--the revulsion at Frank's infidelity, yet the spontaneous
acknowledgment of her heart that he had acted wisely. She was also
reflecting, I was confident, on the weakness that constrained him to
abandon the worship of her image,--however vain and unsatisfactory it
might be,--and to elevate on the altar of his affections such a goddess
as supplied her place.
Pages:
74
75
76
77
78
79
80
81
82
83
84
85
86
87
88
89
90
91
92
93
94
95
96
97
98