All this was too plain to be mistaken;
and like the repeated strokes of a hammer upon glowing iron,
gradually bent his feelings from the buoyant form they had been
endeavoring to assume. The effect was not wholly to be resisted.
More than an hour before the happy assemblage broke up, Florence was
not to be found in the brilliantly lighted rooms. Unable longer to
conceal what he felt, he had retired.
For many days after this, the young man felt sober. "Why haven't you
called to see me?" asked the friend who had married Miss Linmore, a
week or two after the celebration of the nuptials.
Florence excused himself as best he could, and promised to call in a
few days. Two weeks went by without the fulfillment of his promise.
"No doubt, we shall see you next week," said the friend, meeting him
one day about this time; "though I am not so sure we will receive
your visits then."
"Why not?"
"A certain young lady with whom, I believe, you have some
acquaintance, is to spend a short time with us."
"Who?" asked Florence, quickly.
"A young lady from Albany."
"Miss Weldon?"
"The same."
"I was not aware that she was on terms of intimacy with your wife.
Pages:
28
29
30
31
32
33
34
35
36
37
38
39
40
41
42
43
44
45
46
47
48
49
50
51
52