“The finest face I ever saw,” said Mr. Deane, watching her figure till she was out of sight, “and as lovely in soul as in form and features, I perceive.” Then turning to Miss Vernon, he said:
“I see you harmonize. I am really glad it is so, for you can help each other very much.”
Mr. Deane dropped the conversation, and assumed an air of abstraction, his gaze fixed on the blue waves-his thoughts none knew where.
Hugh and Florence walked to the house and seated themselves in the shade, within view of the sea. Then he told her in his clear, brief way, of what had transpired between Mr. Deane and his wife, with the remark that it was far better she should be informed of the true state of affairs, and thus be guarded against the evil of false reports.
“I saw your look of concern when he met Miss Weston-”
She looked wonderingly in his face.
“You feared for him, and her then. That was natural. I see beyond, and that no harm will come from any attachment that may arise. I hope to see them often together.”
“Mr. Wyman, if I did not know you, I should sometimes fear your doctrines.”
“I have no doctrines.”
“Well, theories then.”