He could not bear to think of being estranged from you."
"We are not estranged. I have tried to be angry with him; but there are
some old ties that a man cannot break. He has used me very ill, Marian;
but he is still my friend."
His voice broke a little as he uttered the old familiar name. Yes, she
was changed, cruelly changed, by that ordeal of six months' suffering.
The brightness of her beauty had quite faded; but there was something in
the altered face that touched him more deeply than the old magic. She was
dearer to him, perhaps, in this hour than she had ever been yet. Dearer
to him, and yet divided from him utterly, now that he professed himself
her husband's friend as well as her own.
Friendship, brotherly affection, those chastened sentiments which he had
fancied had superseded all warmer feelings--where were they now? By the
passionate beating of his heart, by his eager longing to clasp that faded
form to his breast, he knew that he loved her as dearly as on the day
when she promised to be his wife; that he must love her with the same
measure till the end of his existence.
"Thank God for that," Marian said gently; "thank God that you are still
friends. But why did he not come with you to-day? You have told him about
me, I suppose?"
"Not yet, Marian; I have not been able to do that.
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