"And then you came," she continued. "I met you, and met you again. You
went away upon your duties and you returned; and I learnt now, not that
there was ever so much more, but just what that ever so much more was.
But it was still, of course, denied to me. However, in spite of that I
felt happier. I thought that I should be quite content to have you for a
friend, to watch your progress, and to feel pride in it. But you
see--Ethne came, too, and you turned to her. At once--oh, at once! If
you had only been a little less quick to turn to her! In a very short
while I was sad and sorry that you had ever come into my life."
"I knew nothing of this," said Durrance. "I never suspected. I am
sorry."
"I took care you should not suspect," said Mrs. Adair. "But I tried to
keep you; with all my wits I tried. No match-maker in the world ever
worked so hard to bring two people together as I did to bring together
Ethne and Mr. Feversham, and I succeeded."
The statement came upon Durrance with a shock. He leaned back against
the stile and could have laughed. Here was the origin of the whole sad
business. From what small beginnings it had grown! It is a trite
reflection, but the personal application of it is apt to take away the
breath.
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