She did not feel at all so sure as she pretended that
there was no danger of the result that Sleeny had predicted; and now
that she was brought face to face with it, she was confounded at
discovering how much it meant to her. She was carrying a dream in her
heart which would make or ruin her, according as it should prove true
or false. She had not thought of herself as the future wife of Farnham
with any clearness of hope, but she found she could not endure the
thought of his marrying any one else and passing forever out of her
reach. She sat there, bitterly ruminating, until the evening glow had
died away from the lake and the night breeze spread its viewless wings
and flapped heavily in over the dark ridge and the silent shore. Her
thoughts had given her no light of consolation; her chin rested on her
hands, her elbows on her knees; her large eyes, growing more luminous
in the darkness, stared out at the gathering night, scarcely noting
that the sky she gazed at had changed from a pompous scene of red and
yellow splendor to an infinite field of tender and dark violet, fretted
with intense small stars.
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