Ah! maddening modesty and virtue, how inconsistent are thy ways! No
wonder so many forget about the cursed serpent....

Through the windows I saw the man lead the woman to a cluster of palms
in a far corner of the big room, seat her on a divan in the shadow of
the palms and drop on his knees before her. The next moment she was in
his arms. He had meant to propose the same as we read in books, but
his lips were too near the woman's delicately tinted breast... He
kissed her lips, her eyes, her bosom and shoulders; he was like the
rush of a bursting river whose waters cry out in ecstasy of liberation
as they leap in the sunshine.

That evening at dinner the engagement was informally announced. There
was, however, something in Miss Wilbur's manner that I could not quite
fathom; that something which completes the happiness of two people who
love each other was lacking. It was not until ten years later when I
met Mrs. Beuland in Reno, that I understood the shadow.

I knew that the young lawyer had failed to induce Miss Wilbur to
consent to an early wedding, and after much persuasion Mr. Royce
returned to England alone. Later it was rumored that the engagement
had been broken off; then we heard that Mr. Royce had committed
suicide; again that he had married; another time that he was returning
to America to press his suit.

Miss Wilbur was very reticent about the subject and continued to
receive the attentions of the young artist, Will Beuland, and some six
months after Mr. Royce returned to England she was married to the New
York artist. No one seemed surprised, though it caused much gossip.