"I have been writing about this girl Cora, because she is so connected with my own life that nothing can separate us. We played together on equal terms as children, and when she gradually dropped into the habits of a servant, it made no change in my affection for her. In my chamber we have always been friends, more than that—more than that!
"Cora saw that I was disturbed, and sitting down at my feet, besought me to tell her the cause.
"For the first time in my life I had a secret to keep from this girl. I could not own to her that a few garrulous words from an old man, who had been so kind to us both, had filled my heart with indignant shame, for she would have asked why such fond words had the power to offend me, and there was no answer ready to my lips.
"Perhaps Cora guessed this, for she was quick as the flash of a star in her intelligence; at any rate, she asked me no questions, but contented herself with braiding my hair, smoothing it with her soft palms, and stooping to kiss my forehead when she saw a shadow of discontent pass over it.
"'Do not fret,' she said, softly, whispering back the thoughts I was striving to drive from my brain; 'seventy years is longer than most men live. Only have patience and wait.'
"I was angry with her for understanding that, which I wished buried from the whole world. Dashing her hands away, I swept the hair she was braiding in a coil around my head, and turned upon her with such sharp rebuke, that she retreated from me frightened.
"'Ah! has it gone so far?' she muttered, shaking her head. 'Well, after this there will be neither patience nor peace for any of us.'
"I ordered her to be silent, and directly after heard her sobbing in the next room as if her heart were broken.
"Why did Cora's words haunt me all that night? are evil thoughts the only ones which cling tenaciously to the brain? I tried to cast them off, heaven knows I did! but that was impossible, nor could I sleep. The shock upon my nerves had been far too severe for that.
"Why would the old man haunt my room and sit by the pillow on which I could find no rest? His presence tortured me. I could not keep my aching eyes from his white hair and the wrinkles on his forehead, which seemed to deepen and grow prominent in the moonlight of my shaded lamp. How could I forget his seventy years, with such things before me in my wakefulness? But he would not leave me; anxiety kept him watchful. It seemed to me that those bright, earnest eyes read all the dark thoughts that haunted my brain. I turned my face to the wall and pretended to sleep. He sat motionless, holding his very breath, for he knew how much rest must be needed after the awful shock I had received, and would not frighten it away by a single motion. After a while, when everything was still, I felt him bending over me; directly his quivering old lips touched my forehead, and what appeared to me like a heavy rain-drop fell upon my closed eyelid.