"It is painful--yes," said Enid, with a heavy sigh; "but I suppose that
it cannot be helped;" and she turned away, so that he might not see the
quivering of her lip or the tear that rolled down her pale cheeks as she
said the words.
She went out into the conservatory and sat down amongst the flowers. She
had been too proud to show the General how much she was hurt; but, as a
matter of fact, she was very deeply wounded by what she heard. Her
affections were not bruised--she had never cared for Hubert so little in
her life; but her pride had received a tremendous blow. Even if he had
only "flirted" with Cynthia West, as the General had suggested, the
flirtation was an insult to the girl whom he had asked in marriage.
Indeed it seemed worse to Enid than a _grande passion_ would have
seemed; for her readings in poetry and fiction had taught her that a
genuine and passionate love sometimes caused people to forget the claims
of duty and the bonds of a previous affection. But the General had not
seemed to think that anything of this kind existed; although the fact
that Hubert's delirium could not be quieted except in Cynthia's presence
showed, even to Enid's innocent eyes, that some strong sympathy, some
great mutual attraction, united them. If it were so, Enid asked herself,
could she blame him? What had she herself done? Had she not given her
heart away to Maurice Evandale, although her word was plighted to Hubert
Lepel?
But then, she said to herself, she had never professed any great
affection for Hubert; she had not taken the initiative in any way. He
need not have asked her to marry him--he might have left her perfectly
free. She felt indignantly that she had been trifled with--that he had
asked her to be his wife without caring to make her so, and that he
might perhaps have trifled in the same manner with Cynthia West. If that
were the case, Enid Vane said to herself that she could never forgive
him. He had profaned love itself--the holiest of earth's mysteries--and
she resented the action, although she might gain by it her own freedom
and happiness.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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