tragic," he said, "to have the ones you love die, but it is more tragic to have those you have loved from instinct, and never known, die. You wonder, all the time, whether they too, are fretting because of the lost opportunity. You wonder what there was below that you didn't see.... All I remember of my mother was her hurry to get in a great number of engagements, and a chill aloofness, cultivated, I have thought since, to keep in check over-tired nerves.... If we could have once gone below the surface! Even with incivilities, if in that way, we could have known each other.... Never saw one another, fleeting glimpses...." 

 "You poor man!" said Cecilia. 

 "I'm ashamed to have said that," he said. His voice was gruff.  "But,—it's been in my heart these long months,—that endless regret."  He drew a shaky breath. Cecilia laid her hand on his arm. Without a shade of consciousness his hand closed around hers.  "I've never told any one that before," he said.  "You're awfully—different. I feel as if we'd known each other always."  He turned his head and looked down at her. Their eyes met, and it was hard to look away. 

 "You're so dear!" he blurted out. 

 Cecilia, used to many men of many compliments, coloured. She squeezed his hand, and then shyly drew hers away. 

 Mrs. Higgenmeyer came waddling down the deck. She saw Cecilia and smiled widely. "Well, dearie!" she said in her usual carrying tone, "Lotty was looking fer yuh. She and poppa are playing rum now. She wants you should see a wireless she had from her gentleman friend." 

 "I'd love to!" answered Cecilia. Momma passed by. K. Stuyvesant and Cecilia laughed gently. 

 "I like to love and laugh," said Cecilia; "but if you leave the love out, the laughter is too liable to turn sour." 

 K. Stuyvesant nodded, but he hadn't heard what she said. He was undergoing new and terrifyingly beautiful sensations. 

 "The Higgenmeyers are dear, aren't they?" said Cecilia. 

 "Um hum," answered K. Stuyvesant. He turned quite boldly and stared at her, while she looked out upon the sea and sky. He wondered, while he swallowed hard, whether he had any chance. He wished he weren't such a duffer! He even wished faintly that she weren't so wonderful. 

 Cecilia looked up at him again, and 

 Prev. P 49/121 next