Cruel As The Grave

But ah! whether it was that the long interruption of his conversations

with the beautiful blonde had given a new zest to the pleasure he

enjoyed in her society, or whether his admiration for her had been ever,

under all circumstances, on the increase, or whether both these causes

combined to influence his conduct, is not known; but it is certain that

from this time, Lyon Berners became more and more blindly devoted to

Rosa Blondelle. And yet, under and over and through all this, the

husband loved his wife as he never did or could love any other woman.

But Rosa Blondelle was one of those vain and shallow women who must and

will have a sentimental flirtation or a platonic friendship with some

man or boy, always on hand. She, like those of her mischievous class,

really meant no harm, while doing a great deal of wrong. Such a woman

will engage a husband's affections and break a wife's heart from mere

vanity, and for mere pastime, without the slightest regard for either of

her victims. And yet, because, they have not been grossly guilty, as

well as deeply sinful, they retain their positions in society.

Rosa Blondelle's whole life lay in these sentimental flirtations and

platonic friendships. Without a lover, she did not care to live at all.

Yet hers was a sham love, though her victims were not often sham lovers.

With her fair and most innocent face, Rosa Blondelle was false and

shallow. And Lyon Berners knew this; and even while yielding himself to

the fascination of her smiles, he could not help comparing her, to her

great disadvantage, with his own true, earnest, deep-hearted wife.

But every morning, while Sybil was engaged in her domestic duties, which

were now greatly increased by the preparations that were going on for

the masquerade ball, Lyon Berners would be walking with Rosa Blondelle,

exploring the romantic glens of the Black Valley, or wandering along the

picturesque banks of the Black River. Or if the weather happened to be

inclement, Mr. Berners and Mrs. Blondelle would sit in the library

together, deep in German mysticism or French sentiment.

Every evening Rosa sat at the grand piano, singing for him the most

impassioned songs from the German and Italian operas; and Lyon hung over

her chair turning her music, and enraptured with her beauty.

Ah! Rosa Blondelle! vain and selfish and shallow coquette! Trifle, if

you must, with any other man's love, with any other woman's peace; but

you had better invade the lair of the lioness, and seize her cubs--you

had better walk blindfold upon the abyss of Hades, than come between

Sybil Berners and her husband!

For Sybil saw it all! and not only as any other woman might have seen

it, just as it was, but as the jealous wife did--with vast exaggerations

and awful forebodings.