“That was because she did not know. Sometimes it is better not to know. Do you think it would have been kind to let her know on that first sweet day? At any rate she never lost that day. She had it with her always afterward—the one beautiful, long day she and her Ambition spent together again, after she took it down from the shelf. They spent it all among the dusted books.
“The next day there was a terrible accident, and when it was over and this other girl, who had grown to a woman, was lying in a dark room that somehow seemed to be full of a dull pain, she heard her Brother and a doctor talking outside. She heard every word. Then she knew what was coming to her. She could tell what to expect.
“Well, she put the Ambition back, away back in her heart, and it has been there ever since. She lets it come to the front sometimes—but only once in a very great while.”
The quiet voice ceased speaking, and Glory, with a little stifled sob, hid her face in the pillows. She understood.
“Oh, I forgot something in the story,” Aunt Hope went on presently, her cheek against Glory's hair. “I forgot the best part! The Brother took care of the girl after that. He was the mother then. Even after he had a home of his own and a little baby, it was just the same. But he had to go away for years at a time, and the baby's mother was dead, so it came about that the girl—or rather woman; she is a woman now—had the little baby almost always to herself. It was beautiful, beautiful, until the little mischief took it into her head to grow up. Even then it wasn't so very bad! For, don't you see, she would fall heir to the Ambition by and by? So the woman was always hoping. And she hasn't quite given up hoping yet.”
There was silence in the big, dark room. Glory got to her feet. Her voice trembled as she began to speak, and she hurried over the words as if she were afraid she might cry.
“I'm going down to Judy's to—to get her books. Then I'm coming home and—and study, auntie. Good-by,” she stumbled.
“Good-by, dear,” said Aunt Hope, softly.
“It was hard to tell her the story like that,” she thought, half repenting. “Glory understands things instantly, and they hurt. But she is so precious—I had to tell it!”
That night Glory's light burned a good deal later than it ever had before, and Glory's bright head bent doggedly over Judy's books. Glory and Aunt Hope's beloved Ambition were so close that night that they almost touched each other. Not quite.