“I always thought you would get well, and now I’m sure of it, for you look as you used before I went away to school, and seem just like our own dear Nell.”
“I’m glad of that; I wanted you to feel so, my Bella. I’ll accept your happy prophecy, and hope I may get well soon, very soon.”
So cheerfully she spoke, so tranquilly she smiled, that all rejoiced over her believing, with love’s blindness, that she might yet conquer her malady in spite of their forebodings.
It was a very happy day to Christie, not only that she was generously remembered and made one of them by all the family, but because this change for the better in Helen made her heart sing for joy. She had given time, health, and much love to the task, and ventured now to hope they had not been given in vain. One thing only marred her happiness, the sad estrangement of the daughter from her mother, and that evening she resolved to take advantage of Helen’s tender mood, and plead for the poor soul who dared not plead for herself.
As the brothers and sisters said good-night, Helen clung to them as if loth to part, saying, with each embrace:
“Keep hoping for me, Bella; kiss me, Harry; bless me, Augustine, and all wish for me a happier New Year than the last.”
When they were gone she wandered slowly round the room, stood long before the picture with its fading garland, sung a little softly to herself, and came at last to Christie, saying, like a tired child:
“I have been good all day; now let me rest.”
“One thing has been forgotten, dear,” began Christie, fearing to disturb the quietude that seemed to have been so dearly bought.
Helen understood her, and looked up with a sane sweet face, out of which all resentful bitterness had passed.