As they
walked along, Miss Linmore kept alluding to Edith, whose changed
appearance had excited her sympathies.
"I've met her only a few times," said she, "but I have seen enough
of her to give me a most exalted opinion of her character. Some one
called her very plain; but I have not thought so. There is something
so good about her, that you cannot be with her long without
perceiving a real beauty in the play of her countenance."
"No one can know her well, without loving her for the goodness of
which you have just spoken," said Edwin.
"You are intimate with her?"
"Yes. She has been long to me as a sister." There was a roughness in
the voice of Florence as he said this.
"She passed without recognizing you," said Miss Linmore.
"So I observed."
"And yet I noticed that she looked you in the face, though with a
cold, stony, absent look. It is strange! What can have happened to
her?"
"I have observed a change in her for some time past," Florence
ventured to say; "but nothing like this. There is something wrong."
When the time to part, with his companion came, Edwin Florence felt
a sense of relief. Weeks now passed without his seeing or hearing
any thing from Edith.
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