The fire burned cheerfully on the wide, red hearth, and Maurice looked
into its glowing heart thinking gratefully of his preservation and of
the friendly refuge into which he had been brought. No reverent man can
come face to face with death and escape without some feeling of awe and
of gratitude to the power which has preserved him; and Maurice was
filled with a sense of how great had been the hand which could bring
him through such peril, how kind the protection which had preserved
Berenice unscathed. Humility and tenderness overflowed his heart, and
the inward thanksgiving which his spirit breathed was as sweet and as
unselfish as if a personal passion had never invaded his breast.
"It seems to me," Berenice remarked from her place by the window, "that
the woods on the hills over there are already beginning to show signs
of spring. There is a sort of delicate change of color in them that
means buds beginning to grow."
Before he could reply, the door opened, and Mehitabel presented herself
with a card.
"Oh," said Berenice, as she received it, "already!"
There seemed to Maurice something of impatience or dismay in her tone.
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