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"She told me that she wished to be alone," said I. "No? How did she say it?" "I will tell you all about that as we go along," said I, and Cydaria laughed again. The debate is years old; not indeed quite so old as the world, since Adam and Eve cannot, for want of opportunity, have fallen out over it, yet descending to us from unknown antiquity.
"Fare-you-well, madame," said I, with a heavy frown and a sweeping bow. No player from the Lane could have been more tragic. "Fare-you-well, sir. I will not detain you, for you have, I know, other farewells to make." "Not for a week yet!" I cried, goaded to a show of exultation that Cydaria stayed so long.
She had waited for years to avenge the kiss that I gave Cydaria in the Manor Park at Hatchstead; but was it not well avenged when I stood humbly, in deferential silence, at the back while his Grace the Duke sued for her favour, and half the Court looked on?
"I kiss Cydaria's hand," said I. "For in truth I'm sorry for my Cydaria." "She was no other than I am," she whispered, and now with a touch of shame; for she saw that I felt shame for her. "Not what is hurts us, but what we know," said I. "Good-bye, Cydaria," and again I kissed her hand. She drew it away from me and tossed her head, crying angrily: "I wish I hadn't told you."
And, the nature of man being such as Heaven has made it, what need to say that I bent my steps to the cottage with all convenient speed? Yet my impatience availed little; for there, on the seat that stood by the door, sat my good friend the Vicar, discoursing in pleasant leisure with the lady who named herself Cydaria. "It is true," he was saying.
I stepped towards the door, but a hand laid on my arm arrested me. "Simon," she asked, "have you sweet memories of Hatchstead?" "God forgive me," said I confusedly, "sweeter than my hopes of heaven." She looked at me gravely for an instant. Then, sighing, she said, "Then I wish you had not come to town, but stayed there with your memories. They were of me?" "Of Cydaria."
She looked up and, finding my gaze on her, made a little grimace as though it were only what she had expected and gave her no more concern than pleasure. Yet at such a look Barbara would have turned cold and distant for an hour or more. Cydaria, smiling in scornful indulgence, dropped me another mocking curtsey, and made as though she would go her way.
My lord took out his snuff-box, and opened it. "Nay, I cannot tell how," said he, as he carried his thumb to his nose. "My lord," I cried, running now, "do you know who Cydaria is?" My lord looked at me, as I ran panting. Soon I should have to give in, for the horses made merry play down the avenue. He seemed to wait for the last moment of my endurance, before he answered.
He invited my confidence by a free display of his own, informing me that he was attached to the household of Lord Arlington, and was returning to London on his lordship's summons. All this was poured forth with wonderful candour and geniality, and I, in response, opened to him my fortunes and prospects, keeping back nothing save the mention of Cydaria.
Yet, amid my chagrin, and in spite of my virtuous intentions, I found myself wondering that Cydaria had remembered; I will not protest that I found no pleasure in the thought; a young man whose pride was not touched by it would have reached a higher summit of severity or a lower depth of insensibility than was mine.
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