"He is strong, and young, and knows the world better than I. How could I ever be of use to him?"
"He is weak—low-spirited—not like his old self now—never again, perhaps, like his old—self! Mattie, I—seem—to think so!"
"Courage, dear friend. He will be always strong; his is not a weak nature."
"Mattie, I think he should have married Harriet Wesden, after all," said he; "he loved her very dearly. She loved him, and understood how good, and honourable he was, at last. What separated them? I—I forget."
And he passed his hand over his forehead, in the old vacant way.
"No matter now, perhaps. They are parted—perhaps only for a time. I have hoped so more than once."
"You have? You who guess—at the truth—so well. Why, Mattie, I—have hope, then, too—that it will not be—always dark like this."
"That's not likely."
"And if the chance comes—to bring those two together—you will do it? Oh! Mattie, you promise this—for me?"
"I promise."