Page:The Father Confessor, Stories of Danger and Death.djvu/199

Rh friends were making to Switzerland. And the old man, one of his dearest friends, had willingly consented. He smiled on the youth when he asked for his company, and Edward answered the unspoken thought:—"I hope to ask something from you before the holiday is through, but I do not know if she cares for me yet."

The old General had wished him good luck, with a warm grasp of the hand. Now he was one of those who seemed to Edward to avoid him most. The girl appeared to share her father's dislike, or whatever it was, and Edward could now never meet or speak with her alone—never could prevail on her to walk with him, or get her to converse.

"She does not care for me," he thought; but the memory of certain looks and words of hers came to him. "She has grown tired, or loves another." His hands clenched at the possibility. The shadow of his friends' unkindness fell darkly upon him in his weakness. His strength had not come back to him since his adventure in the snow, and the short, severe fever that followed. The holidays were drawing to a close; he dreaded to go back to the