He smiled at the girl across the garden fence and
called out his cheery "Good-morning." He was her frequent
companion by the fireside or on the piazza, according to the
season; and he alone of the young men was welcome, for she had
little sympathy for those who remained at home without his excuse.
He was so bravely her friend, keeping his great love so sternly
repressed that she only felt it like a genial warmth in his tones
and manner, and believed that he was becoming in truth what he
seemed, merely a friend.
On that terrible May morning he was out in the garden and heard
her wild, despairing cry as she read the fatal words. He knew that
a heavy battle had been begun, and was going down to the gate for
his paper, which the newsboy had just left. There was no need of
opening it, for the bitter cry he had heard made known to him the
one item of intelligence compared with which all else for the time
became insignificant. Was it the Devil that inspired a great throb
of hope in his heart? At any rate he thought it was, and ground
his heel into the gravel as if the serpent's head was beneath it,
then limped to Mr.
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