But I
cannot blame her. It was natural that an acquaintance, thus strangely
formed, should lead to such a result, and he, too, yes, he is worthy of
her. He loves her dearly, I am sure of that; but never, never can he
regard her as I do."
Again the sounds of music swelled on the balmy evening breeze. It was
now a woman's voice that warbled clear and sweet a touching strain.
"It is Agnes," he murmured, adding as a fine manly voice took up another
part, "and that is Ernest Clifford. My fondest hopes, a long, a last,
farewell."
CHAPTER XIV.
A fortnight had elapsed subsequent to the festivity recorded in the
preceding chapter, when, late one afternoon, Arthur,--who had been
engaged from early morning in a distant part of the city, transacting
some business of importance,--as he returned, passing by Mr. Denham's
dwelling, suddenly came in contact with Mr. Clifford, who, with a quick,
eager step, and a countenance all aglow with some pleasurable emotion,
was hurrying on, so absorbed in his own thoughts, that he was only
arrested by the sound of his friend's voice.
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