FullReads

A little while afterward, and Edwin Florence was missed from the pleasant company. Where was he? Alone in the solitude of his own chamber, with his thoughts upon the past. Again he had been reading over those pages of his Book of Life in which was written the history of his intimacy with and desertion of Edith; and the record seemed as fresh as if made but the day before. It was in vain that he sought to close or avert his eyes. There seemed a spell upon him; and he could only look and read.

“Fatal error!” he murmured to himself, as he struggled to free himself from his thraldom to the past. “Fatal error! How a single act will curse a man through life. Oh! if I could but extinguish the whole of this memory! If I could wipe out the hand-writing. Sorrow, repentance, is of no avail. The past is gone for ever. Why then should I thus continue to be unhappy over what I cannot alter? It avails nothing to Edith. She is happy–far happier than if she had remained on this troublesome earth.”

But, even while he uttered these words, there came into his mind such a realizing sense of what the poor girl must have suffered, when she found her love thrown back upon her, crushing her heart by its weight, that he bowed his head upon his bosom and in bitter self-upbraidings passed the hours until midnight, when sleep locked up his senses, and calmed the turbulence of his feelings.

CHAPTER III.

MONTHS elapsed before Edwin Florence ventured again into company.

“Why will you shut yourself up after this fashion?” said an acquaintance to him one day. “It isn’t just to your friends. I’ve heard half a dozen persons asking for you lately. This hermit life you are leading is, let me tell you, a very foolish life.”

The friend who thus spoke knew nothing of the young man’s heart history.

“No one really misses me,” said Florence, in reply.

“In that you are mistaken,” returned the friend. “You are missed. I have heard one young lady, at least, ask for you of late, more than a dozen times.”

“Indeed! A young lady?”

“Yes; and a very beautiful young lady at that.”

“In whose eyes can I have found such favor?”

“You have met Miss Clara Weldon?”

“Only once.”

“But once!”

“That is all.”

“Then it must be a case of love at first sight–at least on the lady’s part–for Miss Weldon has asked for you, to my knowledge, not less than a dozen times.”

“I am certainly flattered at the interest she takes in me.”

“Well you may be. I know more than one young man who would sacrifice a good deal to find equal favor in her eyes. Now see what you have lost by this hiding of your countenance. And you are not the only loser.”

Florence, who was more pleased at what he heard than he would like to have acknowledged, promised to come forth from his hiding place and meet the world in a better spirit. And he did so; being really drawn back into the social circle by the attraction of Miss Weldon. At his second meeting with this young lady he was still more charmed with her than at first; and she was equally well pleased with him. A few more interviews, and both their hearts were deeply interested.

Now there came a new cause of disquietude to Edwin; or, it might be said, the old cause renewed. The going out of his affections towards Miss Weldon revived the whole memory of the past; and, for a time he found it almost impossible to thrust it from his mind. While sitting by her side and listening to her voice, the tones of Edith would be in his ears; and, often, when he looked into her face he would see only the fading countenance of her who had passed away. This was the first state, and it was exceedingly painful while it lasted. But, it gradually changed into one more pleasant, yet not entirely free from the unwelcome intrusion of the past.