Leighton was kneeling on the grass, holding her hands in his. "Anna,
oh, Anna!" How she had thrilled at the sound of those words and waited
for what might follow next. Why had his manner changed so suddenly,
and why had he been so glad to be interrupted? Had he really no
intention of making love to her, and if he had, why did he rouse her
hopes so suddenly and then cruelly dash them to the ground? Was it
that he loved Lucy best, and that the sight of her froze the words
upon his lips?
"Let him take her, then. He is welcome, for all of me," she thought;
and then, as a keen pang of shame and disappointment swept over her,
she laid her head for a moment upon the grass and wept bitterly. "He
must have seen what I expected and I care most for that," she sobbed,
resolving henceforth to guard herself at every point and do all that
lay in her power to further Lucy's interests, "He will thus see how
little I really care," she thought, and, lifting up her head, she tore
in fragments the wreath she had been making, but which she could not
now place on the head of her rival.
Mr. Leighton was flirting terribly with her when she joined the party
assembled around the table, and he never once looked at Anna, though
he saw that her plate was well supplied with the best of everything,
and when at one draught she drained her glass of ice-water, he quietly
placed another within her reach, standing a little before her and
trying evidently to shield her from too critical observation.
Pages:
32
33
34
35
36
37
38
39
40
41
42
43
44
45
46
47
48
49
50
51
52
53
54
55
56