"To forget what?" Berenice asked, slowly turning her head.
"To forget how near he came once to being very happy," Hester answered, boldly. "To forget—you!"
Then her heart sang a little song of triumph, for she saw the instant change in the still, cold face turned now a little away from her. She saw the proud lips tremble and the unmistakable light leap out from the dark eyes. She saw the colour rush into the cheeks, and she had no more fear. She rose from her chair and dropped on one knee by Berenice's side.
"Make him happy, please," she begged. "You can do it. You only! He loves you!"
Berenice smiled, although her eyes were wet with tears. She laid her long, delicate fingers upon the other's hand.
"But, my dear child," she protested, "what can I do? Mr. Mannering won't come near me. He won't even write to me. I can't take him by storm, can I?"
"He is so foolish," Hester said, also smiling. "He will not understand how unimportant all other things are when two people care for one another. He talks about the difference in your politics, as though that were sufficient to keep you apart!"
Berenice was silent for a moment.
"There was a time," she said, softly, "when I thought so, too."
"Exactly!" Hester declared. "And he doesn't know, of course, that you don't think so now."