"Since the death of my father," I replied.
"Ah! you do not accredit delegated allegiance it seems," turning her
face aside.
"Not as far as my own feelings and their sources are concerned. As to my
acts, I hope never to commit one of which all just men might not
approve."
"We shall see. However, a year more or less makes little difference.
Claude Bainrothe, improved, will return within a year, probably, and all
may still be well. Matters will then, I fancy, be in his own hands,
pretty much.
"All _is_ well, Evelyn, if you could only think so, and now, once for
all, make up your mind, definitely, to let _well_ alone, for I must not
be approached again on this subject, I warn you!"
I spoke with a decision which, at times, had its effect even on the
"indomitable Evelyn," as my father often had called her, playfully, and
again the broken engagement was consigned to silence.
Yet on my mind, my feelings, the effect of this severe and sudden trial
was far more bitter and profound than met the outward eye.
I had been sustained at first by a sense of pride, self-respect, and
womanly indignation, that prevented me from feeling the whole extent of
the wound I had received; but with reaction came that dull, dumb, aching
of the heart, which all who have felt it may recognize as more wearing
than keener pain, or more declared suffering.
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