I were but little happy it I could say how much.”
Words were never more applicable than these to those undeclared lovers, sitting in such a mute happiness side by side, in the little reception-room, on that bright morning so near Christmastide.
Editha was the first to break the spell.
“I have not told you Uncle Richard’s message yet,” she said, and an expression of anxiety for the moment chased the radiant look from her face.
“True—it was like his kindness to remember me,” Earle returned, a shadow stealing over his fine face.
“He thought a great deal of you, and had great hopes for your future——”
“Which, if it amounts to anything, will be in a great measure owing to his goodness,” he interrupted, with emotion.
“Yes, Uncle Richard was a true, good man; but, Earle, now I have something unpleasant to tell you. I—he left you a token of his remembrance.”
She hesitated, and he said, with a smile:
“I’m sure there is nothing unpleasant about that.”