"Not fully perhaps, but I know you loved Malvina dearly, and—"
"Loved her!" interrupted Lottie, in great excitement, "I treated her as though I loved her, didn't I? But there, you don't know—you don't know!"
"Yes, I believe I do," Ann said quietly; "I know that you caused her many a heartache, but still I am sure that you loved her; and you were very dear to her—I need not tell you that, for you know it well enough! Listen, Lottie, I want you to let me be your friend as I was hers—"
"You might have been hers, miss, for she was as good as gold and fit to be the friend of the likes of you, but I'm very different. I'm wicked—oh, you don't know how wicked! You can't be my friend! It's impossible!"
"I know that you bet, if you mean that; but I hope that you mean to give up that bad habit and—and spend more time at home with your mother, she looks very worn and sad, poor thing."
"I can't stay at home to hear mother for ever talking of Malvina, it nearly drives me mad to listen to her. That's one reason why I go out of an evening. I want to forget—everything!"
"But you don't want to forget your sister," said Ann, with a tinge of reproach in her voice. She glanced around the room as she spoke. "Do you still feed the sparrows as she used to do?" she asked.
"Yes," answered Lottie with a sob. She flung herself on the bed and burst into a flood of tears. "Oh," she wailed, "I'm a miserable, wicked girl, and I shall never be happy again—never, never! Oh, please go away and leave me to myself!"
"I will certainly go if you desire me to do so," Ann rejoined, alarmed at the violence of her companion's grief; "but remember, Lottie, that I wish to be your friend, for your own sake as well as for Malvina's, and if ever I can do anything to help you in any way I will."
As Lottie made no response Ann turned to leave the room, but at the door she paused and spoke again:—