The thought of her sister was like calling up the image of a saint. She had not been the object of Jack's adoration, after all. How strange, strange! How much better it would have been for him. Not that Clover would have married him, but it would have been good for him merely to love her. Fevers, perplexities, could not come where Clover was; and with this thought came a great longing to breathe Clover's cool, wholesome atmosphere. Mildred slipped into a wrapper, and without pausing to think further, crossed to her door. There was but a dim light within.
She spoke her sister's name very softly, not to wake her if possibly she might be asleep; but Clover herself in an instant opened the door.
"I thought I heard you come in, Milly."
"Why, what are you doing here, all dressed, in the dark?" asked the younger, entering.
"Thinking." Clover laughed. "It sounds amusing, doesn't it; but the music was pleasant and my window especially enticing. I felt rather tired when I reached home a little while before you, and meant to be asleep by this time, but here I am, you see."
"Let me come and think too," said Mildred; "or rather, let me come where I can't think."
The two sisters sat down in the large bay window overlooking the lake.
"Haven't you had a pleasant day?" asked Clover.
"I've had all sorts of a day. How has yours been?"
"Delightful."