Nellie's eyes filled with tears at the thought, and Christina stood by her with a hand on her shoulder, looking out into the twilight of the square. That night, when Nellie knew Christina and Ada were fast asleep, she tried to set her thoughts in order. How was it that things looked less unutterably sad than they had done two or three hours ago? What difference was there?
A few kind words, a little sympathy, a short friendly call.
Nellie's head was buried closer into her pillow. "He was so kind and gentle," she thought; "he seemed to understand what I feel, and to sympathize so much. It did me good, I suppose."
Then she began to review all the day, and her father's words came back to her—
"Now I have only you."
"Only me," said Nellie to herself; "and I must be all he wants, and stay with him always, and be his comfort. Dear, dear papa."
Long, long hours passed by before she slept. The streets got quieter and quieter; only an occasional carriage or cab broke the stillness, till the sound of the wheels died away in the distance, and all was again silent.
Through her open window, she could hear Big Ben send forth its thrilling sound as the hours went by, and when each one struck, it came almost as a knell to her.
"I have left the best of life behind," she thought sadly; and then once more she looked forward, not into the little life which was close to her, but beyond that, above the mists of the valley at her feet, up to the everlasting hills.
"In Thy presence is fulness of joy: at Thy right hand there are pleasures for evermore."