Everything
that he had longed for, worked for, dreamed about, was over now--
the long walks in the garden, her dear hand in his, even the song
of the choir boys, and the burst of joyous music as they passed
out of the church door only to enter their own for life. All this
was gone--never to return--never had existed, in fact, except in
his own wild imagination. And once more the disheartened boy
turned his tired pain-racked face toward the bare wall.
Miss Felicia tripped downstairs with an untroubled air, extended
two fingers to Mrs. Hicks, and without more ado passed out into
the morning air. No thought of the torment she had inflicted
affected the dear woman. What were pins made for except to curb
the ambitious wings of flighty young men who were soaring higher
than was good for them. She would let him know that Ruth was a
prize not to be too easily won, especially by penniless young
gentlemen, however brave and heroic they might be.
Hardly had she crossed the dreary village street encumbered with
piles of half-melted snow and mud, than she espied Peter picking
his way toward her, his silk hat brushed to a turn, his gray
surtout buttoned close, showing but the edge of his white silk
muffler, his carefully rolled umbrella serving as a divining rod
the better to detect the water holes.
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