It _had_ meant something--that failure to speak of the girl's beauty, that evasion with the eyes.
The night was cold, but she sat down by the shore, and let her head droop as she listened to the sea-dirge.

She could love him, now that it was in vain.

She knew now the warm yearning for his presence which at Ullswater had never troubled her, and it was too late.

No tears came to her eyes; she did not even breathe a deeper breath.

Most likely it would pass without a single outbreak of grief.
And perhaps the thought of another's misery somewhat dulled the edge of her own.