How cold his voice
sounded in her ears!
"Are you going back to Victoria College?" she asked.
"No, to the Wesleyan. Are you going to spend your summer in
Briarsfield?"
"Most of it. I am going back to Toronto for a week or two before
'Varsity opens. My friend Miss de Vere is staying with some friends
there. She is ill and--"
"Do you still call her your friend?" he interrupted, with a sarcastic
smile.
"Why, yes!" she answered wonderingly, never dreaming that he had
witnessed that same scene in the Mayfair home.
"You are faithful, Beth," he said, looking graver. Then he talked
steadily of things in which neither of them had any interest. How cold
and unnatural it all was! Beth longed to give way to tears. In a few
minutes he rose to go. He was going! Arthur was going! She dared not
look into his face as he touched her hand coldly.
"Good-bye, Miss Woodburn. I wish you every success next winter."
She went back to the parlor and watched him--under the apple trees,
white with blossom, through the gate, past the old church, around the
corner--he was gone! The clock ticked away in the long, silent parlor;
the sunshine slept on the grass outside; the butterflies were flitting
from flower to flower, and laughing voices passed in the street, but her
heart was strangely still.
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