"Indeed! And did you know me?"
"Certainly I did."
"Well, I never for an instant dreamed it was you; but no wonder—I never saw any one so changed," he said, looking in the pale wasted face, and contrasting it with the blooming happy one he had last seen.
"Trouble seldom changes people for the better, I believe," she said, with a sigh.
"Ah, I heard what you allude to; Curtis told me. I am very, very sorry indeed, Georgia; but do you know they imagine you dead?"
"Yes, I know it," she said, averting her face.
"And that Richmond has searched for tidings of you everywhere?"
"Yes."
"Well, Georgia," he said, anxiously, "what do you intend to do? You should return to your husband."
"I intend to," she said, looking up with a sudden bright smile, "but not just yet. And you—how little I ever expected to see you a clergyman—you, who, if your reverence will excuse my saying it, used to be such a rattlepate."