What a lovely picture she made! Her closed eyes caused her dark lashes to sweep her cheeks.
Her lips apart disclosed to my enraptured gaze two rows of small pearly teeth; her dead golden coloured hair had become unfastened, and partly hid one of her pink cheeks; beneath her muslin and lace dress I could see the gentle motion of her bosom.
Her contracted forehead, and the corners of her mouth occasionally twitching, showed me she was still in pain; the whole made a picture, the like of which very few men have the good luck to see. How I wished I had five miles to carry her instead of one!
She opened her eyes. "I have not told you my name yet." I smiled to myself. What difference could her name make to me?
My God! what was she saying?
"It is Edith Garren."
The words seemed to burn into my brain.
I felt giddy and stumbled.
She uttered a cry of pain, and then continuing, said, "I am the only daughter of Major Garren."
I pulled myself together with an effort, and controlled my emotion.
"Edith Garren! Major Garren!"
"I am staying with Mrs. Mavis now, as my father has gone to America."
