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Page 13
"I have hurt you--forgive me," he said gently, and he laid his hand on
her head so reverently for a moment. His white lips murmured something,
but she only caught the last words, "God bless you--forever. Good-bye,
Beth--little Beth."
He smiled back upon her as he left the room, but she would rather he had
looked sad. That smile--she could never forget it, with its wonderful
sweetness and sorrow.
She sat motionless for a while after he left the room. She felt thrilled
and numbed. There are moments in life when souls stand forth from their
clayey frames and touch each other, forgetful of time and space. It was
one of those experiences that Beth had just passed through. She went to
her room and crouched down at her window beneath the stars of that
autumn night. Poor Arthur! She was so sad over it all. And he had loved
her! How strange! How could it have been? Loved her since they were
children, he had said. She had never thought of love coming like that.
And they had played together upon that meadow out there. They had grown
up together, and he had even lived in her home those few years before he
went to college. No, she had never dreamed of marrying Arthur! But oh,
he was wounded so! She had never seen him look like that before. And he
had hoped that she would share his life and his labor. She thought how
he had pictured her far away under the burning sun of Palestine, bathing
his heated brow and cheering him for fresh effort. He had pictured,
perhaps, a little humble home, quiet and peaceful, somewhere amid the
snow-crested mountains of the East, where he would walk with her in the
cool of night-fall, under the bright stars and clear sky of that distant
land. Poor, mistaken Arthur! She was not fitted for such a life, she
thought. They were never made for each other. Their ambitions were not
the same. She had found her counterpart in Clarence, and he understood
her as Arthur never could have done. Arthur was a grand, good, practical
man, but there was nothing of the artist-soul in him, she thought. But
she had hoped that he would always be her own and Clarence's friend. He
was such a noble friend! And now her hope was crushed. She could never
be the same to him again, she knew, and he had said farewell.
"Good-bye, Beth--little Beth," he had said, and she lingered over the
last two words, "little Beth." Yes, she would be "little Beth" to him,
forever now, the little Beth that he had loved and roamed with over
meadow and woodland and wayside, in the sunny, bygone days.
"Good-bye, Beth--little Beth." Poor Arthur!
CHAPTER VI.
_'VARSITY._
Friday morning came, the last day of September, and the train whistled
sharply as it steamed around the curve from Briarsfield with Beth at one
of the car-windows. It had almost choked her to say good-bye to her
father at the station, and she was still straining her eyes to catch the
last glimpse of home. She could see the two poplars at the gate almost
last of all, as the train bore her out into the open country. She looked
through her tears at the fields and hills, the stretches of woodland and
the old farm-houses, with the vines clambering over their porches, and
the tomatoes ripening in the kitchen window-sills. Gradually the tears
dried, for there is pleasure always in travelling through Western
Ontario, particularly on the lake-side, between Hamilton and Toronto.
Almost the first one Beth saw, as the train entered Toronto station,
was Clarence, scanning the car-windows eagerly for her face. Her eyes
beamed as he came toward her. She felt as if at home again. Marie had
secured her room for her, and Beth looked around with a pleased air when
the cab stopped on St. Mary's street. It was a row of three-storey brick
houses, all alike, but a cheery, not monotonous, row, with the maples in
front, and Victoria University at the end of the street. A plump, cheery
landlady saw Beth to her room, and, once alone, she did just what
hundreds of other girls have done in her place--sat down on that big
trunk and wept, and wondered what "dear old daddy" was doing. But she
soon controlled herself, and looked around the room. It was a very
pretty room, with rocker and table, and a book-shelf in the corner.
There was a large window, too, opening to the south, with a view of St.
Michael's College and St. Basil's Church. Beth realized that this room
was to be her home for the coming months, and, kneeling down, she asked
that the presence of Christ might hallow it.
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