"There is no fear, dear."
"There is fear! You do not know the craving for exhilaration, the capability of self-indulgence, in our wild Tropic blood. Oh, Sabina, I feel at times that I could sink so low—that I could be so wicked, so utterly wicked, if I once began! Take me away, dearest creature, take me away, and let me have fresh air, and fair quiet scenes, and rest—rest—oh, save me, Sabina!" and she put her hands over her face, and burst into tears.
"We will go, then: to the Rhine, shall it be? I have not been there now for these three years, and it will be such fun running about the world by myself once more, and knowing all the while that—" and Sabina stopped; she did not like to remind Marie of the painful contrast between them.
"To the Rhine? Yes. And I shall see the beautiful old world, the old vineyards, and castles, and hills, which he used to tell me of—taught me to read of in those sweet, sweet books of Longfellow's! So gentle, and pure, and calm—so unlike me!"
"Yes, we will see them; and perhaps—"
Marie looked up at her, guessing her thoughts, and blushed scarlet.
"You, too, think then, that—that—" she could not finish her sentence.
Sabina stooped over her, and the two beautiful mouths met.
"There, darling, we need say nothing. We are both women, and can talk without words."
"Then you think there is hope!"