"I know it—I was sure of it," answered Jessie, resting her proud young head on the old lady's shoulder, and weeping those soft, warm tears that relieve the heart so much. "I have thought of you and of him. Tell me that your grandson is no worse."
The old lady kissed her again, and tenderly smoothed the glossy hair upon her temples.
"He is no worse, dear child—a little better, I think, since we have been quite alone—the tranquillity has done him good."
"I should like to see him," said Jessie. "Miss Hyde and I have missed him so much in our loneliness."
The old lady cast a grateful glance at me; then, turning to Jessie, she said,—
"It would make him strong enough to come, if he knew that his sweet friend desired it."
Jessie looked at that dear old face earnestly, and smiled through her tears.
"You are very kind."
While we were sitting together, Mr. Lee came in. He had seen Mrs. Bosworth's carriage at the door, and, knowing how seldom the old lady went out, sought her to pay his respects.
It is seldom that two persons so thoroughly bred, and so singularly intelligent as Mr. Lee and our visitor, ever meet. Notwithstanding the sorrow that oppressed us, the conversation which sprang out of the first greeting brought cheerfulness with it. They did not talk directly of our loss, but every subject touched upon had a tinge of sadness in it, which betrayed the buried feelings and sympathy which lay behind.