"
"But I don't believe the girl _could_ have been as cruel to you, as
this man I'm thinking of was to--her. They'd known each other for
years, since childhood. He used to call her his 'little sweetheart'
when she was ten and he was fifteen. How was she to dream that even
when he was a boy, he didn't really like her better than other little
girls, that already he was making calculations about her money? She
thought he was different from the others, that _he_ cared for herself.
They were engaged, the bridesmaids asked, the trousseau ready, the
invitations out for the wedding, and then--one night she overheard a
conversation between him and a cousin of his, who was to be one of her
bridesmaids. Only a few words--but they told everything. It was the
other girl he loved, and had always loved. But he was poor, and
so--well, you can guess the rest. My sister broke off her engagement
the next day, though the man went on his knees to her, and vowed he
had been mad. Then she left home at once, and soon she was taken very
ill."
"She loved that worthless scoundrel so much?"
"I don't know. I don't think she knows. It was the destruction of an
ideal which was terrible. She had clung to it. She had said to
herself: 'Many men may be false, and mercenary, and unscrupulous, but
this one is true.' Suddenly, he had ceased to exist for her. She stood
alone in the world--in the dark.
Pages:
161
162
163
164
165
166
167
168
169
170
171
172
173
174
175
176
177
178
179
180
181
182
183
184
185