"If
it ever comes naturally, perhaps; certainly not now. Why, the venerable
Colonel Thornton calls me 'Marian,' but it never comes to me to call him
'John!'"
CHAPTER XIII.
LOVE.
This was but one of many such meetings, Thurston growing more and more
infatuated each time, while Marian scarcely tried to hide the pleasure
which his society gave her.
One day when riding through the forest he met Marian returning from
the village and on foot. She was radiant with health and beauty, and
blushing and smiling with joy as she met him. A little basket hung upon
her arm. To dismount and join her, to take the basket from her arm, and
to look in her face and declare in broken exclamations his delight at
seeing her, were the words and the work of an instant.
"And whither away this morning, fairest Marian?" he inquired, when
unrebuked he had pressed her hand to his lips, and drawn it through his
arm.
"I have been to the village, and am now going home," said the maiden.
"It is a long walk through the forest."
"Yes; but my pony has cast a shoe and lamed himself slightly, and I fear
I shall have to dispense with his services for a few days."
"Thank God!" fervently ejaculated Thurston to himself.
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