"How wonderfully Meeta has improved," said Mr. Schwartz, one evening to
his wife, as he looked after the retreating form of her friend.
"Yes, and I am truly rejoiced that she has so improved before her lover
returns to claim her."
"I wish he could have taken away with him such an impression as our
handsome and intelligent Meeta would now make. He would have been much
more likely to remain constant to her. There must be a painful contrast
between the cultivated and graceful women he has known in Germany, and
his memory of his early love."
"Love is a great embellisher," said Mrs. Schwartz, with a gay smile, and
the conversation passed to more general topics.
The fifth year of Ernest's absence was gone, and still he came not; but
he was coming soon, at least so his father said, though he did not show
Meeta the letters on which he founded his assertion. It was the first
time he had withheld them; a circumstance the more remarkable, because
of late he seemed to regard Meeta with greater affection and confidence
than he had ever done before. He now sought her society, and seemed
pleased and even proud of the connection to which he had at first
consented with some reluctance.
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