Others see the results,
always simpler in proportion as they are greater. But the actors
themselves alone know how hard the great and simple can seem.
Beatrice's calmness was not only of the outward kind at the present
moment. She felt that she was alone in the world, and that she had taken
her life into her own hands. Fate had lent her the clue of her happiness
at last and she would hold it firmly to the end. It would be time enough
then to open the flood-gates. It would have been unlike her to dwell
long upon the thought of Unorna or to give way to any passionate
outbreak of hatred. Why should Unorna not love him? The whole world
loved him, and small wonder. She feared no rival.
But he was near her now. Her heart leaped as she realised how very near
he might well be, then sank again to its calm beating. He had been near
her a score of times in the past years, and yet they had not met. But
she had not been free, then, as she was now. There was more hope than
before, but she could not delude herself with any belief in a certainty.
So thinking, and so saying to herself, she fell asleep, and slept
soundly without dreaming as most people do who are young and strong, and
who are clear-headed and active when they are awake.
It was late when she opened her eyes, and the broad cold light filled
the room. She lost no time in thinking over the events of the night, for
everything was fresh in her memory.
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