"I would not have remained, Lillian, had not my dress become so entangled that I could not loosen it without revealing my presence. Believe me, cousin, I was not a willing listener. You will not doubt this?"
"Certainly not; and, darling, let me assure you that my heart is lighter for the circumstance, for we are confidants now. I have had such a longing to tell you all; but this one secret had become habitual to me. The very thought of revealing it filled me with a nervous horror. But it is over now, and by and by I want to impart to your tender sympathies half of the burden I have so long carried. You do not know how unendurable its weight has become. O Grace, it is dreadful to be obliged to endure for years the pains of a wounded heart. To feel its throbbings day after day without the power to claim a panacea from another's love."
Grace started.
"It must be true," she thought, "and am I to thus endure?"
Ah! little did she know how the first deep wounds, that seemingly "will never heal," can be soothed in some hearts, while in others no power can assuage the pain. Grace Stanley could forget, for the sunshine of her nature was salutary.
At this juncture Tezzie appeared in the doorway, and announced that "Missus wanted do young ladies to dress fine for dinner, for Massa Charles was coming back wid a strange gemman."
"Very well, we will be ready in good time," replied Lillian. "Now go and call Agnes to arrange my hair."
The dark, dumpy figure disappeared from sight, and Lillian, bowing her head, kissed again the pure white forehead of her companion.
"To-morrow, dear, I want your little heart to beat in sympathy with my own. Good by," and Grace left the room.