"
There was a sudden start, and Lucy's face was as pale as ashes, while
her hand went quickly to her side, where the heart beats were so
visible, warning Arthur to be careful how he startled her, so when she
asked:
"Who was it, and why did you not marry her? Did you love her very
much?" he answered indifferently:
"I would rather not tell you who it was, as that might be a breach of
confidence. She did not care to be my wife, and so that dream was over
and I was left for you."
He did not say how much he loved her, but Lucy forgot the omission and
asked:
"Was she young and pretty?"
"Young and pretty both, but not as beautiful as you," Arthur replied,
his fingers softly parting back the golden curls from the face looking
so trustingly into his.
And in that he answered truly. He had seen no face as beautiful of
its kind as Lucy's was, and he was glad that he could tell her so. He
knew how it would please her, and partly make amends for the tender
words which he could not speak for the phantom eyes haunting him so
strangely. And Lucy, who took all things for granted, was more than
content, only she wondered that he did not kiss her again, and wished
she knew the girl who had come so near being in her place.
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