The Disappearing Eye by Fergus Hume — Read

I returned to Murchester, rather annoyed to find that I had a rival, even though he was but a gardener. There was no denying that the fellow was uncommonly handsome, and thus might captivate the affections of a woman above him in stations. As I have said before, I can lay no claim to good looks, so if Miss Monk was a young lady whose heart was in her eye, as the saying goes, I stood rather a poor chance. Certainly Striver, while professing that he loved her, had not ventured to say that there was any response to his daring. Still, for all I knew, the romance might be a reversal of King Cophetua and the beggar-maid, in which not unlikely case, a journey to Burwain would certainly destroy my peace of mind. If I loved the picture of the goddess, how much more would I love the goddess herself, when she became flesh and blood to my hungry eyes. When searching for an adventure, I had not counted upon this entanglement.

However, on reflection, I did not see why I should not stand as good a chance as the gardener. He assuredly was better-looking and younger, possessing a certain amount of money, if not a man of any exalted rank. I was a gentleman, in the prime of life, and well on the way to make a comfortable income, if not exactly a fortune. Also I possessed a recognised position as a rising dramatist, and I had a large circle of pleasant, well-to-do friends to whom I could introduce my wife. So I made up my mind to stick to my guns, or in other words, to see Miss Monk, and learn how the land lay. Of course if she loved young Striver, there was nothing more to be said; but if she did not, and the love was all on his part, I could then try my luck. And at this point I recalled the memory of that infernal glass eye.