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Updated: June 29, 2025
You have heard all I dare to tell you, and all the truth. Judge me now." For the last few minutes a great battle had been waging in Cecil Tresilyan's heart. Can the wisest of us, before the armies meet, prophesy aright as to the issue of such an Armageddon? Twice she tried to speak, and found her voice rebellious; at last she answered, in a faint, broken tone, "I can not say how I pity you."
For once expectation was not to be disappointed a remarkable fact, when one considers how much dissatisfaction is created, as a rule, in the popular mind, by the shortcomings of eclipses, processions, Vesuvian eruptions, new operas, and other advertised attractions, natural and artificial. The singing was really a success. Miss Tresilyan's magnificent voice did its duty nobly, and did no more.
It was no light peril that she escaped; the betrayal of emotion under such circumstances would have weighed down a meeker spirit than The Tresilyan's with a sense of ineffaceable shame; for remember however marked her partiality for Keene might have been there had been no suspicion of an engagement between them.
I have no excuse to offer for this long and egotistical anecdote, except the pendant which Maloney used to attach to his ultra-marine stories "The point of it is, that it's strictly true." Another and a much more reputable Council of Three sat that night in Miss Tresilyan's apartments. Mr. Fullarton represented the male element there, and was in great force.
Before you saw Cecil Tresilyan's face, the curve of her neck, and the way her head was set on it, told you that she was by no means exempt from the family failing which had laid its hand so heavily on her ancestors. Yet it was not a hard or habitually haughty, or even a very decided face.
It is not worth while recording Bessie's noisy expressions of astonishment and delight, nor describing Dick Tresilyan's way of receiving notice of the sudden change in their plans.
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