“What?” asked the patient. “Here you live quietly to yourselves in perfect peace and love. Many a word that I heard dame Hannah say has stuck in my mind, and I can see for myself that you act as kindly as you speak. The gods no doubt are good to you!”
“God is for each and all.”
“What!” exclaimed Selene with flashing eyes. “For those whose every pleasure they destroy? For the home of eight children whom they rob of their mother? For the poor whom they daily threaten to deprive of their bread-winner?”
“For them too, there is a merciful God,” interrupted dame Hannah who had just come into the room. “I will lead you to the loving Father in Heaven who cares for us all as if we were His children; but not now—you must rest and neither talk nor hear of anything that can excite your fevered blood. Now I will rearrange the pillow under your head. Mary will wet a fresh compress and then you must try to sleep.”
“I cannot,” replied Selene, while Hannah shook her pillows and arranged them carefully. “Tell me about your God who loves us.”
“By-and-bye, dear child. Seek Him and you will find Him, for of all His children He loves them best who suffer.”
“Those who suffer?” asked Selene, in surprise. “What has a God in his Olympian joys to do with those who suffer?”
“Be quiet, child,” interrupted Hannah, patting the sick girl with a soothing hand, “you soon will learn how God takes care of you and that Another loves you.”
“Another,” muttered Selene, and her cheeks turned crimson.
She thought at once of Pollux, and asked herself why the story of her sufferings should have moved him so deeply if he were not in love with her. Then she began to seek some colorable ground for what she had heard as she went past the screen behind which he had been working. He had never told her plainly that he loved her. Why should he, an artist and a bright, high spirited young fellow, not be allowed to jest with a pretty girl, even if his heart belonged to another. No, she was not indifferent to him: that she had felt that night when she had stood as his model, and now—as she thought—I could guess, nay, feel sure of, from Mary’s story.