At the depot our hands were cold and trembling with excitement -
neither of us, I fancy, knowing quite how far to go in our greeting.
Our correspondence had been true to the promise made her mother
- there had not been a word of love in it - only now and then a
suggestion of our tender feeling. We hesitated only for the briefest
moment. Then I put my arm about her neck and kissed her.
'I am so glad to see you,' she said.
Well, she was charming and beautiful, but different, and probably
not more different than was I. She was no longer the laughing,
simple-mannered child of Faraway, whose heart was as one's hand
before him in the daylight. She had now a bit of the woman's
reserve - her prudence, her skill in hiding the things of the heart. I
loved her more than ever, but somehow I felt it hopeless - that she
had grown out of my life. She was much in request among the
people of Hillsborough, and we went about a good deal and had
many callers. But we had little time to ourselves. She seemed to
avoid that, and had much to say of the grand young men who came
to call on her in the great city.
Pages:
256
257
258
259
260
261
262
263
264
265
266
267
268
269
270
271
272
273
274
275
276
277
278
279
280