Part 41 (1/2)
”Some one who has been dear to you?”
”Has been, and _is_.”
”Ah! and who, sir, may I have the fortune to resemble?”
”One dear also to you--_your sister_!”
”My sister!”
”Lilian.”
CHAPTER EIGHTY THREE.
OLD MEMORIES AWAKENED.
The rein dropped from her fingers--the rifle fell upon the neck of her horse, and she sat gazing at me in speechless surprise. At length, in a low murmur, and as if mechanically, she repeated the words:
”My sister Lilian?”
”Yes, Marian Holt--your sister.”
”My name! how can you have become acquainted with it? You know my sister?”
”Know her, and love her--I have given her my whole heart.”
”And she--has she returned your love?”
”Would that I could say surely yes! Alas! I am still in doubt.”
”Your words are strange. O sir, tell me who you are! I need not question what you have said. I perceive that you know my sister--and who I am. It is true: I am Marian Holt--and you? you are from Tennessee?”
”I have come direct from it.”
”From the Obion? perhaps from--”
”From your father's clearing on Mud Creek, Marian.”
”Oh! this is unexpected--what fortune to have met you, sir! You have seen my sister then?”
”I have.”
”And spoken with her? How long ago?”
”Scarcely a month.”
”So lately! And how looks she? She was well!”
”How looks she?--Beautiful, Marian, like yourself. She was well, too, when I last saw her.”
”Dear Lilian!--O sir! how glad I am to hear from her! Beautiful I know she is--very, very beautiful. Ah me!--they said I was so too, but my good looks have been lost in the wilderness. A life like that I have been leading soon takes the softness from a girl's cheeks. But, Lilian!