Her arms were raised above her head, and there
was an enigmatic smile on her lips; her face had the sleepy wisdom of
the Sphinx. Kate was crouched on the floor by her side, listening
eagerly. Now and then she would say: "Oh! how clever you were!" "So he
never guessed." "Yes, yes, and then, what did he say then?" urging her
on with a feverish greed for details, which my affianced did not disdain
to impart lazily, the faint, contemptuous smile always upon the pink
lips I had not ventured to kiss with ardor.
I did not know that I was listening, as I stood there, panting for
breath, my hand clutched against my throat, lest I should groan in my
agony. Phrase by phrase, I heard the whole dreadful story, told,
without the shadow of regret or repentance, by the woman in whom I
believed as I believed in Heaven, told with cynical laughter instead,
and impatient contempt of the innocence, sullied years ago by
Hilyard--the friend I trusted and loved. I could draw to-day exactly the
pattern of that portiere, the curling leaves of dull crimson, the
intricate tracery of gold thread.
"And Lewis?" suggested Kate, at length.
Amy rolled her head restlessly on the pillow. The soft golden hair was
loosened from its pins, and fell over the slender shoulders. "Oh! well,
one must marry, you know," she said, indifferently.
I moved away silently and unnoticed.
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