"What! You do not understand yet that there is a bond between us which
makes any concealment impossible? I could not blind _you_ with the
paltry fictions that satisfy those poor fools!" and she waved her hand
contemptuously towards the distant figures of the tennis players,
amongst whom Mr. Tucker, in a wonderful costume, was distinctly visible.
The expression struck me as unjustifiably strong, even when applied to a
man who sang comic songs with a banjo accompaniment.
"I don't think he is a bad little chap," I said, apologetically.
"They are all alike," she replied, with an air of ineffable scorn. "You
can only content them with idle promises of love and wealth, like the
ignorant village girl who crosses a gipsy's hand with silver and in
return is promised a rich husband. And all the while I see the dark
cloud hanging over them and can do nothing to avert it. Ah! it is
terrible to know the evil to come and be powerless to warn others! To be
obliged to smile whilst one's heart is wrung with anguish and one's
brain tortured with nameless apprehensions; that is indeed misery!"
"Dear me!" I said, nervously; "I hope you don't foresee any catastrophe
about to overwhelm _me_?"
She gazed straight into my eyes, and her passionate face gradually
softened into a lovely smile.
"No, my only friend!" she exclaimed, taking my hand gently in hers; "so
far, no cloud darkens the perfect happiness of our intercourse!"
I felt that there were moments of compensation even in the pursuit of
the Black Arts!
III.
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