“Take this, if you please, to her,” Earle Wayne said, handing the man a blank, unsealed envelope.
The servant took it with a bow and withdrew, wondering what that spotless envelope contained, and who the gentleman was who sent no card—unless, perhaps, it might be in the envelope, and was intended for Edith’s eyes alone.
The fair girl arose with apparent calmness at his rap, and, taking the missive from his hand, opened it, and found within her own note, that she had written bidding Earle come to her as soon as he should be free.
At that moment she realized how very short and formal it was, and a feeling of remorse stole into her heart that she had not written more freely and kindly, in spite of her sensitiveness at her father’s sneers and insinuations.
Waiting a moment or two to cool the hot color in her cheeks, and to still the fierce beating of her heart, she then went slowly and trembling down to meet the brave hero, whom she had not seen for nearly three years.
Would he be much changed? Would he be pale, haggard, and miserable in appearance? Would he look the same, and speak the same, as he had done on that sad day when she had bidden him farewell and left him to go to his dreary fate within those four gloomy walls, or would he be broken and disheartened, and feel that the future held nothing but scorn and contempt for him?
She had read of men, noble, spirited, and energetic, who, having been imprisoned for a term of years, were ruined by it, and who had settled down into an existence of profound melancholy and inaction upon regaining their freedom.
Would Earle be like this?
These were some of the anxious questions which flitted through her mind on the way from her chamber to the reception-room, where Earle, with equal agitation, was awaiting her coming.
She opened the door softly and went in.