He watched the graceful, slender figure until the turn of the
road hid Beatrice from his view. He followed her at a safe
distance, and saw her cross the long meadows that led to the
Elms. Then Hugh Fernely waited with patience until one of the
farm laborers came by. By judicious questioning he discovered
much of the history of the beautiful young girl who longed for
life. Her face haunted him--its brilliant, queenly beauty, the
dark, radiant eyes. Come what might, Hugh Fernely said to
himself, he must see her again.
On the following morning he saw the girls return to the cliff.
Lillian finished her picture. Ever and anon he heard Beatrice
singing, in a low, rich voice, a song that had charmed her with
its weird beauty:
"For men must work, and women must weep;
And the sooner it's over, the sooner to sleep
And goodbye to the bar and its moaning."
"I like those words, Lillian," he heard her say. "I wonder how
soon it will be 'over' for me. Shall I ever weep, as the song
says? I have never wept yet."
This morning the golden-haired sister left the cliff first, and
Beatrice sat reading until the noonday sun shone upon the sea.
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