I dashed into the drawing-room,
gave the letter to my father, and seeing Maria was not there, I went
on into the conservatory.
There are moments when even plain people look handsome. Notably when
self-consciousness is quite absent, and some absorbing thought gives
sentiment to the face, and grace and power to the figure. It was so at
this moment with Maria, who stood gazing before her, the light from
above falling artistically on her glossy hair and tall, elegant
figure. At the sound of my footsteps she started, and the colour
flooded her face as I came up to her. She sank on to a seat close by,
as if too much agitated to stand.
"I have something I want to say to you," said I, stooping over her,
and speaking in my gentlest voice. "May I say it?"
She moved her lips as if trying to speak, but there was no sound, and
she just nodded her head, which then drooped so that I could hardly
see her face.
"We have known each other since we were children," I began.
"Yes, Regie dear," murmured Maria.
"We were always very good friends, I think," continued I.
"Oh, yes, Regie dear."
"Childhood was a very happy time," said I, sentimentally.
"Oh, yes, Regie dear.
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