Harry's assistance, he would perhaps secure her attendance at
the service.
Meanwhile Hope Farwell passing quickly along the village street on her
way home from the old Academy yard, was beset by many varied and
conflicting emotions. Recalling her conversation with the man who was to
her so nearly a total stranger, she felt that she had been too earnest,
too frank. It troubled her to think how she had laid bare her deepest
feelings. She could not understand how she had so far forgotten her
habitual reserve. There was a something in that young man, so tall and
strong, and withal so clean looking, that had called from her, in spite
of herself, this exposition of her innermost life and thoughts. She ought
not to have yielded so easily to the subtle demand that he--unconsciously
no doubt--had made.
It was as though she had flung wide open the door to that sacred, inner
chamber at which only the most intimate of her friends were privileged
to knock. He had come into the field of her life in the most commonplace
manner--through the natural incident of their meeting. He should have
stopped there, or should have been halted by her. The hour should have
been spent in conversation on such trivial and commonplace topics as
usually occupy strangers upon such occasions, and they should have parted
strangers still. She felt that after this exhibition of herself, as she
termed it in her mind, she at least was no stranger to him. And she was
angry with herself, and ashamed, when she reflected how deeply into her
life he had entered; angry with him too, in a way, that he had gained
this admittance with apparently no effort.
Pages:
82
83
84
85
86
87
88
89
90
91
92
93
94
95
96
97
98
99
100
101
102
103
104
105
106