"Do you mean that I do?" said Elizabeth.
"Everybody ought to change for the better, always," he said with a little smile, — "so I hope you are capable of that."
Elizabeth thought in her heart, though she was no better, yet that she had truly changed for the better, since former times; she half wanted to tell him so, the friend who had had most to do with changing her. But a consciousness of many things and an honest fear of speaking good of herself, kept her lips shut; though her heart beat with the wish and the doubt. Winthrop's next words in a few minutes decided it.
"What is the fact, Miss Elizabeth?"
Elizabeth hesitated, — and hesitated. He looked at her.
"I hope I am changed, a little, Mr. Landholm; but there is a great deal more to change!"
Her face was very ingenuous and somewhat sorrowful, as she turned it towards him; but his looked so much brighter than she had ever seen it, that the meeting of the two tides was just more than her spirits could bear. The power of commanding herself, which for the last few minutes had been growing less and less, gave way. Her look shrank from his. Winthrop had come nearer to her, and had clasped the hand that was nearest him and held it in his own. It was a further expression of the pleasure she had seen in his smile. Elizabeth was glad that her own face was hidden by her sunbonnet. She would not have either its pain or its pleasure to be seen. Both were sharp enough just then. But strong necessity made her keep outwardly quiet.
"What does the change date from?"
"As to time, do you mean?" said Elizabeth struggling.
"As to time, and motive."