Woman is never so charming to
us men as when she is listening to the story of our lives; and, oh, what
a sympathetic listener was this beautiful, dainty girl, with her
wide-open eyes, her red, parted lips, her little sighs and murmured
exclamations!
"Oh, it is wonderful!" she breathed at last. "It it like a story in a
book! I can see it all--you tell it so well; and yet I feel you are not
telling half. And this Donna Elvira--what a good, kind woman she must
be!"
"She is," assented Derrick. "I wish she were also a happy one; but I'm
afraid she isn't. There is a kind of mystery about her--but I'm afraid
you won't understand from my poor attempt to describe her."
"Oh, yes, yes I do!" said Celia. "You make it all so plain. I should
like to meet her, to know her."
"I'll tell her so--when I go back," said Derrick.
What had happened? A moment before, the little wood had been all aglow
with the rays of the setting sun, her heart had been palpitating with a
sweet, delicious happiness; and now, all quite suddenly, the air had
become cold, a chill had struck to her heart. Celia's face paled, she
looked up at him and then away from him. With the toe of her dainty
shoe, she traced a pattern in the moss at her feet; and still with
downcast eyes, she said:
"You--you are going back? Of course."
"Yes; I must go back," he said, in a dry voice.
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