"I wonder if Rose is really nervous," said Edward, breaking the
silence that bound them after the departure of the others.
"I think she is really nonsensical," said Rose's friend, not very
blandly.
"Are you then so sorry to be left alone with me?"
The young lady evaded the question, but became extremely loquacious.
She intimated that almost any companionship, or none at all, could be
endured on this beautifully melancholy autumn day, and called his
attention to the leaves underfoot, which had grown brown and ragged,
like the pages of a very old book on which the centuries had laid
their slow relentless fingers. In a burst of girlish confidence she
told him that always, after the wild winds had stripped from the
shuddering woodland its last leaves, and the pitiless rains had washed
it clean, the spectacle of bare-branched trees, standing against the
gentle gloom of a pale November sky, reminded her of a company of
worldings, from whom every vestige of earthly ambition, pride and
prosperity had fallen away. "Anything," she said to herself,
"_anything_ to keep the talk from becoming personal.
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