Poor cowardly soul! She loves me, and
owns as much, yet weakly flies from me, afraid to trust the strong arm
and the brave heart of the man who loves her, preferring the glittering
shams of the world to the reality of true and honest love. Well, child,
I have weighed you in the balance and found you wanting. Would to God it
had been otherwise! If you had been brave and bold for love's sake,
where is that pure and perfect chrysolite for which I would have
bartered you?'
He flung himself into a chair, and sat with his head bowed upon his
folded arms, and his eyes not innocent of tears. What would he not have
given to find truth and courage and scorn of the world's wealth in that
heart which he had tried to win. Did he think her altogether heartless
because she so glibly renounced him? No, he was too just for that. He
called her only half-hearted. She was like the cat in the adage,
'Letting I dare not, wait upon I would.' But he told himself with one
deep sigh of resignation that she was lost to him for ever.
'I have tried her, and found her not worth the winning,' he said.
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