Even the roses which in the secret uneasiness of my
conscience I had put in her hand on our departure from Troy, as a sort
of visible token that I regarded her as my bride, and which through
all her interview with my father she had never dropped, blossomed
before me on the canvas. Nothing that could give reality to the
likeness, was lacking; the vision of my dreams stood embodied in my
sight, and I looked for peace. Alas, that picture now became my
dream.
"Inserting it behind that of Evelyn which for two years had held its
place above my armchair, I turned its face to the wall when I rose in
the morning. But at night it beamed ever upon me, becoming as the
months passed, the one thing to hold to and muse over when the world
grew a little noisy in my ears and the never ceasing conflict of the
ages beat a trifle too loudly on heart and brain.
"Meanwhile no word of her, only of her villainous father and brother;
no token that she had escaped evil or was removed from want. If I had
loved her I could not have succored her, for I did not know where to
find her. Her countenance illumined my wall, but her fair young self
lay for all I knew sheltered within the darkness and silence of the
tomb.
"At length my morbid broodings worked out their natural result.
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