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Page 24
Arthur's painting hung above Beth's study table, and sometimes a shadow
crossed her face as she looked at it. She missed the old friendship, and
she wondered, too, that she never met him anywhere.
Beth did not go home at Thanksgiving that year, and she almost regretted
it the evening before. She was a little homesick for "daddy," and to
dispel her loneliness she shut up her books and went to bed early. Her
head had scarcely touched the pillow when, hark! there was a sound of
music in the drawing-room down-stairs. She rose in bed to listen, it was
so like Arthur's music. She was not at all familiar with the piece, but
it thrilled her somehow. There was a succession, of sweet, mellow notes
at first; then higher, higher, higher, broader, deeper, fuller, it was
bearing her very soul away! Then sweeter, softer, darker, tint of gold
and touch of shadow, the tears were standing in her eyes! Clearer again,
and more triumphant! Her lips parted as she listened. One sweet
prolonged swell, and it died away. She listened for more, but all was
silent. She looked out of the window at the stars in the clear sky, and
the dark shadow of St. Michael's tower on the snow-covered college roof,
then fell back among the pillows to sleep and dream.
She was walking again on the old path by the road-side at home, just as
she used to go every evening for the milk. The dusk was deepening and
she began to hurry, when she noticed a tall, dark figure ahead. As she
drew nearer she recognized Arthur's broad shoulders and well-set head.
Then a strange, indefinable fear seized her. She did not want to
overtake him, to meet him face to face. She tried to slacken her steps,
but a mysterious, resistless wind seemed to bear her forward against her
will. Not a leaf stirred. All was still around her, and yet that
uncanny, spirit-like wind urged her on. She struggled, and although
Arthur never looked back, she felt that he knew all about her struggles.
At last she made one mighty effort and tore herself free. She took the
path on the other side of the road. It was all quiet there, and she
walked on slowly. The darkness grew thicker, and she lost sight of
Arthur. Then the country became quite new to her. There were bridges
every little way--old rickety bridges, that creaked beneath her step,
with holes where she caught her feet, and she could hear the great wild
torrents rushing below in the darkness. She grew frightened. Oh, how she
wished Arthur were there! Then suddenly it grew lighter, and she saw
that her path was turning, and lo! there was Arthur! A moment more and
their paths would meet. He reached the spot a few steps before her, and
turning, looked at her just once, but she saw in his look that he knew
all that had passed in her heart. "Follow me," he said, with a tender
look; and she followed in silence where the path led between the steep,
high banks, where strange flowers were clinging in the dim light. She
was quite content now, not frightened any longer. Then the bank opened
by their pathway, and he led her into a strange, sandy, desert-looking
place. They entered a shadowy tent, and in the dim light she could see
strange faces, to whom Arthur was talking. No one noticed her, but she
did not feel slighted, for though he did not look at her, she felt that
he was thinking of her. Then suddenly the strange faces vanished, and
she was alone with Arthur. He came toward her with such a beautiful
smile, and there was something in his hand of bright gold--the brightest
gold she had ever seen. It was a golden spear with a tiny ring on one
end and a mass of chain hanging to it; but lo! when she looked around
her she saw it had filled the place with a beautiful mystic light, a
golden halo. Then he drew her nearer, nearer to his bosom, and in a
moment she felt the spear point touch her heart! An instant of pain,
then it pierced her with a deep, sweet thrill. She felt it even to her
finger tips. She awoke with a start, but she could almost feel that
thrill even after she was awake. She could not sleep again quickly, but
lay watching the stars and the moonlight growing paler on her book-case.
Sleep came at length, and when she awoke again it was at the sound of
Mr. Owen's jolly "Heigho! Everybody up! Everybody up!" This was a way he
had of waking the children in good time for breakfast, and it had the
merit of always arousing the boarders, too. Beth naturally supposed that
the musician she had heard the night before had been a caller, and so
made no enquiries.
The following Sunday evening Beth went to church alone. It was only
three or four blocks up to the Central, and Beth was never timid. She
did not look around the church much, or she would have recognized a
familiar face on the east side. It was Clarence Mayfair's; he was paler
than usual, and his light curly hair looked almost artificial in the
gaslight. There was something sadder and more manly in his expression,
and his eyes were fixed on Beth with a reverent look. How pure she was,
he thought, how serene; her brow looked as though an angel-hand had
smoothed it in her slumber. She seemed to breathe a benediction on
everything around her; she reminded him of an image of an angel bending
in prayer, that he had seen in one of the old cathedral windows across
the sea. And yet, after knowing a woman like that, he had fancied he
could--even fancied he did--love Marie de Vere. What folly had blinded
him then, he wondered? Marie had her charms, to be sure, with those
dark, bewitching eyes of hers, so kind and sympathetic, so bright and
witty and entertaining. But there was something about Marie that was
fleeting, something about Beth that was abiding; Marie's charms
bewitched while she was present and were soon forgotten, but Beth's
lingered in the memory and deepened with the years. It was well, after
all, he thought, that Marie had refused his offer of marriage that
morning he received Beth's note, and went to her in the heat of his
passion. He was but a boy then, and yet it was only a few months ago.
What was it that had changed him from boyhood to manhood so suddenly? He
did not try to answer the question, but only felt conscious of the
change within. He realized now that he had never known what it meant to
love. Marie had shed her lustre on him as she passed; Beth he had never
fully comprehended. He had a dim feeling that she was somehow too high
for him. But would this reverence he felt for her ripen into love with
the maturer years of his manhood? We never can tell the changes that
time will weave in these hearts of ours. It is to be feared Clarence was
not a very attentive listener throughout the service that night. At the
close he waited for Beth in the moonlight outside, but she did not
notice him till he was right beside her.
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