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Page 27
"You needn't hurry so, Mabel dear. I can wait," she said as her friend
approached.
It was over a year since he had heard that voice, and he had tried to
believe his heart was deadened to its influence; but now to-night, at
the first sound, it thrilled him again with its old-time music. A moment
later she closed her door and the hall was dark, and his heart began to
beat faster now that he grasped the truth. He turned again to his room,
filled with the soft radiance of moonlight. He leaned back in his study
chair, his eyes closed; he could hear the students of St. Michael's
chanting an evening hymn, and an occasional cab rattled past in the
street below. He noted it as we note all little details in our moments
of high excitement. Then a smile gradually lighted up his face. Oh,
sweet love! For one moment it seemed to be mastering him. She was there.
Hark! Was that her footstep overhead? Oh, to be near her--to touch her
hand just once!
Then a stern, dark frown settled on his brow. He rose and paced the room
with a sort of frenzied step. What is she to you--Clarence Mayfair's
promised wife? Arthur Grafton, what is she to you? Oh, that love, deep
and passionate, that comes to us but once! That heart-cry of a strong
soul for the one being it has enshrined! Sometimes it is gratified and
bears in after years its fruits, whether sweet or bitter; or again, it
is crushed--blighted in one moment, perhaps--and we go forth as usual
trying to smile, and the world never knows, never dreams. A few years
pass and our hearts grow numb to the pain, and we say we have
forgotten--that love can grow cold. Cold? Yes; but the cold ashes will
lie there in the heart--the dust of our dead ideal! Would such a fate be
Arthur's? No. There was no room in that great pulsing heart of his for
anything that was cold--no room for the chill of forgetfulness. Strive
as he might, he knew he could never forget. What then remained? Even in
that hour a holier radiance lighted his brow. Strong to bear the
burdens and sorrows of others, he had learned to cast all his care upon
One who had never forsaken him--even his unrequited love. He laid it on
the altar of his God, to bloom afresh, a beauteous flower transplanted
by the River of Life, beyond the blight of envy and of care--beyond, yet
near enough to earth to scatter its fragrance in blessings down upon the
head of her whom he--loved! Dare he say that word? Yes, in a sweeter,
holier sense than before, as one might love the beings of another world.
His face was quite calm as he turned on the light to resume his studies,
but before beginning his work he looked a little sadly around the room.
Yes, he had spent pleasant hours there, but he must leave, now. It was
better that the same roof should not shelter them both. He did not wish
to see Beth Woodburn again; and he just remembered that a friend of his
was going to vacate a room on the other side of the park. He would take
it early next week.
It was a week later, one afternoon, just before tea, that Beth and Mabel
Clayton were sitting in the drawing-room with Mrs. Owen.
"Do you know any of the girls over at the college who would like to get
a room, Miss Clayton?"
"No, but I might find some one."
"Mr. Grafton has moved out of his room for some reason, I don't know
what."
"Mr.--whom did you say?" asked Beth.
"Mr. Grafton. Did you know him? A tall, dark fellow! Goes to Victoria.
Quite good-looking!"
"Why, surely, can it be Arthur Grafton! That's just who it is! Why, how
funny we never met each other coming in and out!"
"Did you know him, Beth?" asked Mabel. "I met him once or twice in the
halls, but I didn't know you knew him."
"Yes, I have known him ever since we were children."
"Oh, then you have heard him play," said Mrs. Owens. "He played for us
Thanksgiving eve. He's a splendid musician."
Beth felt just a tinge of disappointment that night as she passed the
closed door of the room Arthur had occupied. She wondered why he never
tried to find her. It was unkind of him to break the old friendship so
coldly. It was not her fault she could not love him, she thought. She
could never, never do that! In fact, she did not believe she would ever
love any man.
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