"In the main you are right, but I still hold to my theory.
At least, I believe that in all great music there is a subtle
individuality and _motif_. Love may be blind, but it is not deaf. Miss
Wildmere gave us good music, not great music."
Mr. Muir began talking about the weather as if it were the only
subject in his mind, and soon afterward Madge went to her room with
bowed head and downcast heart.
"I have no chance," she sighed. "He loves her, and that ends all. He
is loyal to her, and will be loyal, even though she breaks his heart
eventually, as I fear. It's his nature."
CHAPTER XXII
DISHEARTENING CONFIDENCES
Under a renewed impulse of loyalty Graydon intercepted Miss Wildmere
as she was going to her room, and said: "The clouds in the west are
all breaking away--they ever do, you know, if one has patience. We can
still have our drive and enjoy it all the more from hope deferred."
"I'm so sorry," she began, in some embarrassment. "Of course I
couldn't know last night that it would rain in the morning, and so
promised Mr. Arnault this afternoon."
"It seems as if it would ever be hope deferred to me, Miss Wildmere,"
he said, gravely.
"But, Graydon, you must see how it is--"
"No, I don't see, but I yield, as usual.
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