CHAPTER XLII. A YOUNG GIRL'S PRIDE.

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Alva took the letter from Honora amid cries of dismay from them all.

She broke the seal, and as she opened the letter, a flashing diamond ring fell out into her hand from the closely written sheet.

“It is the ring I gave her when we became engaged,” exclaimed St. George, taking it and kissing it in memory of that night, his heart thrilling with the memory of her beauty and sweetness as he kissed her good-bye beneath the drooping vines.

Alva read aloud, knowing how impatient they would be to hear the letter:

“‘Dear Miss Beresford—I have gone away because there is a secret I can no longer keep from you, and I know that when you learn it you will be glad I left you.

“‘I am the poor girl whose engagement to your brother so bitterly outraged the Beresford pride.

“‘When I first came to you I was very happy, because I fancied I might win your love, so that you would welcome St. George’s choice.

“‘But when you told me his story, although you seemed to take his part, it seemed to me that you sympathized with your parents and feared that your brother would be unhappy in the lot he had chosen. You said he would be so poor he would regret that he had sacrificed fortune for love’s sake.

“‘At first I did not believe it; I was resolved to cling to my lover, and put his constancy to the test.

“‘When you told me that your brother’s love affair was over, that you believed that your mother had persuaded him the girl was unworthy, I fancied you were glad.

“‘So I knew there was no use staying on for his return. His heart had turned from me, and he would be sorry to find me here.

“‘I, too, am proud, though not a Beresford. There may be other pride than that of wealth and place.

“‘I, little Floy Fane, the daughter of a most unfortunate race, born to a heritage of sorrow, poor and alone in life, am yet too proud to thrust myself upon a family that despises me, yet whose equal I feel myself to be in all but money—that mere dross to a truly noble heart.

“‘So I have left you forever. I am glad that I have been of some use to you. I pity you and love you, for it seems to me that pride has made shipwreck of your own life. Love has no part in it, and you are not happy.

“‘Do not feel troubled over my fate. Thanks to your generosity, I have money enough to support me till I find work again.

“‘This ring—your brother’s gift to me in the hour when I promised to be his wife, not knowing his family’s pride and his own fickle heart—please return to him with a last farewell from

“‘Floy.’”

The letter bore date of the evening before. She had waited—poor little loving heart—for one sight of him, her fickle, lost love; then she had stolen away, alone and lonely, to begin her battle with the world again.

It was a cruel disappointment to them all, but they bore it bravely, because it did not seem possible that Floy could hide herself from them long.

Indeed, she had not even threatened to hide herself, for how could she suppose they would search for her in her exile?

She had told herself most bitterly that they would rejoice at her flight.

“Oh, the proud little darling, how cruelly she misunderstood me!” cried Alva, tenderly. “But we will send for Floyd Landon. He will find her for us as he did before.”


                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                           

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