"No, no," she said playfully, pushing me back, "not till it is done."
Presently she said, "Now look!"
I looked and saw a perfect, beautifully formed G made by the scarlet berries on the green moss.
"There," she said, "I'll send that back to George, to show him that I have found him in the berries; or, no," she added, "we'll keep it till he comes to see me. The doctor said I could be carried down-stairs to-morrow, and then I shall begin to 'receive,'" and she laughed a gay little laugh, and sank back tired.
That moment stands out in my memory as the saddest, hardest one of all. I think at that moment hope died in my heart.
When I told George of this, and showed him the saucer of moss--for she had ordered it to be set on the drawing-room table, saying, "It is too pretty to stay up here with bottles and invalids,"--he buried his face in his hands for many minutes. When he lifted it, he looked me steadily in the eye, and said,--
"She has utterly forgotten this whole year. But I will win her again."
Then he knelt down and kissed every little leaf and berry which her hands had touched, and went away without speaking another word.
It was decided after this that it could do no harm for him to see her. Indeed, he now demanded it. His resolution was taken.
"You need not fear," he said to Dr. Fearing, "that I shall agitate her by approaching her as if she were my own. She is not my own. But she will be!"