The Rector of St. Marks

"With the acknowledgment that you love me, I can do anything," she

said, and her white hand crept slowly into the cold, clammy one which

lay so listlessly in Arthur's lap.

He was already repenting, for he felt that it was sin to take that

warm, trusting, loving heart in exchange for the half-lifeless one he

should render in return, the heart where scarcely a pulse of joy was

beating, even though he held his promised wife, and she as fair and

beautiful as ever promised wife could be.

"I can make her happy, and I will," he thought, pressing the warm

fingers which quivered to his touch.

But he did not kiss her again. He could not, for the brown eyes which

still seemed looking at him as if asking what he did. There was a

strange spell about those phantom eyes, and they made him say to Lucy,

who was now sitting demurely at his side: "I could not clear my conscience if I did not confess that you are not

the first woman whom I have asked to be my wife."

There was a sudden start, and Lucy's face was as pale as ashes, while

her hand went quickly to her side, where the heart beats were so

visible, warning Arthur to be careful how he startled her, so when she

asked: "Who was it, and why did you not marry her? Did you love her very

much?" he answered indifferently: "I would rather not tell you who it was, as that might be a breach of

confidence. She did not care to be my wife, and so that dream was over

and I was left for you."

He did not say how much he loved her, but Lucy forgot the omission and

asked: "Was she young and pretty?"

"Young and pretty both, but not as beautiful as you," Arthur replied,

his fingers softly parting back the golden curls from the face looking

so trustingly into his.

And in that he answered truly. He had seen no face as beautiful of

its kind as Lucy's was, and he was glad that he could tell her so. He

knew how it would please her, and partly make amends for the tender

words which he could not speak for the phantom eyes haunting him so

strangely. And Lucy, who took all things for granted, was more than

content, only she wondered that he did not kiss her again, and wished

she knew the girl who had come so near being in her place. But she

respected his wishes too much to ask, after what he had said, and she

tried to make herself glad that he had been so frank with her, and not

left his other love affair to the chance of her discovering it

afterwards at a time when it might be painful to her.