"Mildred?" asked his listener in a hoarse whisper, and with half-averted face.
"No; she is still single, and it struck me as strange, for she is a most lovely and attractive girl in both person and character."
"A perfect woman, nobly planned,
To warn, to comfort, and command;
And yet a spirit still and bright,
With something of an angel light."
"I think I never saw one to whom Wordsworth's description was more truly applicable."
Landreth turned and grasped Mr. Dinsmore's hand, his face all aglow with hope and joy. "You have lifted me from the depths of despair!" he said in tremulous tones.
"You have cared for her?"
"Loved her as never man loved woman before!"
Mr. Dinsmore smiled at that, thinking of Rose, and his early love, the mother of his child, but did not care to combat the assertion. "She is worthy of it," was all he said.
"I heard she was married, and it nearly killed me," Landreth went on. "But I could not blame her, for she had steadily refused to pledge herself to me."
"But where have you been all these years, and how is it that I find you here now, Charlie? I should be glad to hear your story."