Her sister looked into her face, attentively. She seemed in doubt.
“I saw Mr. Warden, and confided in his honor; charged him with my secret, on the eve of his and my departure. He kept it. Do you understand me, dear?”
Grace looked confusedly upon her. She scarcely seemed to hear.
“My love, my sister!” said Marion, “recall your thoughts a moment: listen to me. Do not look so strangely on me. There are countries, dearest, where those who would abjure a misplaced passion, or would strive against some cherished feeling of their hearts and conquer it, retire into a hopeless solitude, and close the world against themselves and worldly loves and hopes for ever. When women do so, they assume that name which is so dear to you and me, and call each other Sisters. But there may be sisters, Grace, who, in the broad world out of doors, and underneath its free sky, and in its crowded places and among its busy life, and trying to assist and cheer it and to do some good,—learn the same lesson; and, with hearts still fresh and young, and open to all happiness and means of happiness, can say the battle is long past, the victory long won. And such a one am I! You understand me now?”
Still she looked fixedly upon her, and made no reply.
“Oh Grace, dear Grace,” said Marion, clinging yet more tenderly and fondly to that breast from which she had been so long exiled, “if you were not a happy wife and mother—if I had no little namesake here—if Alfred, my kind brother, were not your own fond husband—from whence could I derive the ecstasy I feel to-night! But as I left here, so I have returned. My heart has known no other love, my hand has never been bestowed apart from it, I am still your maiden sister: unmarried, unbetrothed: your own old loving Marion, in whose affection you exist alone, and have no partner, Grace!”
She understood her now. Her face relaxed; sobs came to her relief; and falling on her neck, she wept and wept, and fondled her as if she were a child again.
When they were more composed, they found that the Doctor, and his sister good Aunt Martha, were standing near at hand, with Alfred.
“This is a weary day for me,” said good Aunt Martha, smiling through her tears, as she embraced her nieces; “for I lose my dear companion in making you all happy; and what can you give me in return for my Marion?”
“A converted brother,” said the Doctor.