Words so simple, yet full of heartfelt gladness, never greeted mortal ears before.
He grasped both her outstretched hands, forgetting all her supposed neglect of him, and without the least hesitation as to his own worthiness to do so.
He knew he was worthy—his hands, morally speaking, were as fair and free from stain as her own.
Yet he had not expected to find her so cordial and glad to see him, and her manner filled him with deepest gratitude and admiration.
“Editha—Miss Dalton,” he said, his whole face glowing, “I thank you for your words of welcome—I cannot doubt their heartiness.”
“Of course not; why should you, Earle?” she asked, with some surprise, as she searched his face.
“I told you that I should not forget you—that I should always be your friend; what reason could you have to think I would not greet you heartily?” she urged, a little look of grieved surprise in her eyes.
“I should not if—if—pardon me, I ought not to speak thus. Have you been well?” and he tried to change the subject.
“Quite well; and you?”
“Do not my looks speak for me?” he asked, smiling, yet with the shadow deepening in his eyes.