erome; he was tired of making love to women especially
selected by his mother; he did not fancy the process. Thus far he had
always been unsuccessful. I had told him no--but, womanlike, I did not
mean it; I did not want him to go out of my life. In a vague way I was
conscious of a desire to win his love, but it was during my social
formative period when every thing was vague. I was unconscious of my
power, yet I did not know how to accomplish my end. So Gerome left me. I
was unable to keep him. But, somehow, I did not consider it a finality;
it was simply an awkward pause. I hoped for his return and a renewal of
his protestations. I had heard women say that if a man really cared for
a woman he would easily brook the first refusal and speedily return. So
I thought, but I was mistaken; he did not return.

Two moons had not waxed and waned before he was having what now I am
sure must have been the one passionate love of his life. This was
unexpected; a blow in the dark to my pride, and, alas! I fear, also, to
my heart. It was the death-knell to my better nature. It gave direction
to the formation of my social life. From that moment I am conscious of
a change, and for the worse, in my hitherto attractive nature. It was
attractive on account of its sweetness and its purity. It was a nature
which, until then, had known nothing of the hot, passionate love of the
world and of all things worldly. The formative period was gone, and with
it most that was good.

It was hard to have a man court me, not exactly for my money, but
because I chanced to be the nearest fruit in reach and because his
crafty mother thought it would be an excellent arrangement! Especially
hard, because in spite of myself I had for him a very tender feeling.
My sudden loss and quick appropriation by another created within me an
unjust resentment; my resentment was silent and unnoticed, but it filled
me with a desire for revenge. This was the evil which crept into my
life; this was the element which warped my better nature, made me
grasping, worldly, hard to please. This sudden desertion placed me in
a false position. People said that Gerome had never loved me--simply
trifling. The friends of that _other woman_, a great brown-eyed
beauty with the subtle charm and fatal fascination of a devil most
lovely, made it appear that of course Gerome Meadows had never loved
me--why should he? He cowardly held his peace and let them prattle; he
was kneeling low before t