FullReads

“Yes. That was all; and she ought to have known it.”

On the next day, Fisher, who had spent a restless night, called to ask for Clara as early as he could do so with propriety.

“She wishes you to excuse her,” said the servant, who had taken up his name to the young lady.

“Is she not well?” asked Fisher.

“She has not been out of her room this morning. I don’t think she is very well.”

The young man retired with a troubled feeling at his heart. In the evening he called again; but Clara sent him word, as she had done in the morning, that she wished to be excused.

In the mean time, the young lady was a prey to the most distressing doubts. What she had heard, vague as it was, fell like ice upon her heart. She had no reason to question what had been said, for it was, as far as appeared to her, the mere expression of a fact made in confidence by friend to friend without there being an object in view. If any one had come to her and talked to her after that manner, she would have rejected the allegations indignantly, and confidently pronounced them false. But they had met her in a shape so unexpected, and with so much seeming truth, that she was left no alternative but to believe.

Fisher called a third time; but still Clara declined seeing him. On the day after this last attempt, he received a note from her in these, to him, strange words:–

“DEAR SIR:–Since I last met you, I have become satisfied that a marriage between us cannot prove a happy one. This conclusion is far more painful to me than it can possibly be to you. You, I trust, will soon be able to feel coldly towards her whose fickleness, as you will call it, so soon led her to change her mind; but a life-shadow is upon my heart. If you can forget me, do so, in justice to yourself. As for me, I feel that–but why should say this? Charles, do not seek to change the resolution I have taken, for you cannot; do not ask for explanations, for I can give none. May you be happier than I can ever be! Farewell.

“CLARA.”

“Madness!” exclaimed Charles Fisher, as he crumpled this letter in his hand. “Is there no faith in woman?”

He sought no explanation; he made no effort to change her resolution; he merely returned this brief answer–

“Clara, you are free.”

It was quickly known among the circle of their friends that the engagement between Fisher and Clara had been broken off. Mears and his friend, it may be supposed, did not feel very comfortable when they heard this.

“I didn’t think the silly girl would take it so seriously,” remarked one to the other.

“No; it was a mere joke.”

“But has turned out a very serious one.”

“I guess they’ll make it up again before long.”

“I hope so. Who would have believed it was in her to take the matter so much at heart, or to act with so much decision and firmness? I really think better of the girl than I did before, although I pity her from my heart.”

“Hadn’t we better make an effort to undo the wrong we have done?”

“And expose ourselves? Oh, no! We must be as still as death on the subject. It is too serious an affair. We might get ourselves into trouble.”

“True. But I cannot bear to think that others are suffering from an act of mine.”

“It is not a pleasant consciousness, certainly. But still, to confess what we have done would place us in a very awkward position. In fact, not for the world would I have an exposure of this little act of folly take place. It would affect me in a certain quarter–where, I need not mention to you–in a way that might be exceedingly disagreeable.”

“I didn’t think of that. Yes, I agree with you that we had best keep quiet about it. I’m sorry; but it can’t be helped now.”