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Southworth, Emma Dorothy Eliza Nevitte, 1819-1899

"The Missing Bride"


He determined, during the walk, to plead his love, and ascertain his
fate. Ay! but how approach the subject when, at every ardent glance or
tone, her face, her heart, shrank and closed up, like the leaves of the
sensitive plant.
So they rambled on, discovering new beauties in nature; now it would be
merely an oak leaf of rare richness of coloring; now some tiny insect
with finished elegance of form; now a piece of the dried branch of a
tree that Thurston picked up, to bid her note the delicately blending
shades in its gray hue, or the curves and lines of grace in its twisted
form--the beauty of its slow return to dust; and now perhaps it would
be the mingled colors in the heaps of dried leaves drifted at the foot
of some great tree.
And then from the minute loveliness of nature's sweet, small things,
their eyes would wander to the great glory of the autumnal sky, or the
variegated array of the gorgeous forest.
Thurston knew a beautiful glade, not far distant, to the left of their
path, from which there was a very fine view that he wished to show his
companion. And he led Marian thither by a little moss-bordered,
descending path.
It was a natural opening in the forest, from which, down a still,
descending vista, between the trees, could be seen the distant bay, and
the open country near it, all glowing under a refulgent sky, and hazy
with the golden mist of Indian Summer.


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