Oh! write to her for me, and explain all. How
strange has been my infatuation. Will you write for me?"
"Yes."
"Say that my heart has not turned from her an instant. That her
imagined coldness has made me of all men most wretched."
"I will do so. But why not write yourself?"
"It will be better to come from you. Ask her to return. I would
rather meet her here than in her uncle's house. Urge her to come
back."
Mrs. Hartley promised to do so, according to the wish of Mr.
Florence. Two days passed, and there was no answer. On the morning
of the third day, the young man, in a state of agitation from
suspense called at the house of his friend. After sending up his
name, he sat anxiously awaiting the appearance of Mrs. Hartley. The
door at length opened, and, to his surprise and joy, Clara entered.
She came forward with a smile upon her face, extending her hand as
she did so. Edwin sprang to meet her, and catching her hand, pressed
it eagerly to his lips.
"Strange that we should have so erred in regard to each other," said
Clara, as they sat communing tenderly. "I trust no such error will
come in the future to which I look forward with so many pleasing
hopes.
Pages:
33
34
35
36
37
38
39
40
41
42
43
44
45
46
47
48
49
50
51
52
53
54
55
56
57