A great tear rolled down upon the shining silk in Rachel’s hands as she looked into Christie’s earnest face, and answered with an almost passionate gratitude in her own:
“You can never need a friend as much as I do, or know what a blessed thing it is to find such an one as you are.”
“Then I may love you, and not be afraid of offending?” cried Christie, much touched.
“Yes. But remember I didn’t ask it first,” said Rachel, half dropping the hand she had held in both her own.
“You proud creature! I’ll remember; and when we quarrel, I’ll take all the blame upon myself.”
Then Christie kissed her warmly, whisked away the tear, and began to paint the delights in store for them in her most enthusiastic way, being much elated with her victory; while Rachel listened with a newly kindled light in her lovely eyes, and a smile that showed how winsome her face had been before many tears washed its bloom away, and much trouble made it old too soon.
Christie kept her word,—asked no questions, volunteered no confidences, but heartily enjoyed the new friendship, and found that it gave to life the zest which it had lacked before. Now some one cared for her, and, better still, she could make some one happy, and in the act of lavishing the affection of her generous nature on a creature sadder and more solitary than herself, she found a satisfaction that never lost its charm. There was nothing in her possession that she did not offer Rachel, from the whole of her heart to the larger half of her little room.
“I’m tired of thinking only of myself. It makes me selfish and low-spirited; for I’m not a bit interesting. I must love somebody, and ‘love them hard,’ as children say; so why can’t you come and stay with me? There’s room enough, and we could be so cosy evenings with our books and work. I know you need some one to look after you, and I love dearly to take care of people. Do come,” she would say, with most persuasive hospitality.
But Rachel always answered steadily: “Not yet, Christie, not yet. I’ve got something to do before I can think of doing any thing so beautiful as that. Only love me, dear, and some day I’ll show you all my heart, and thank you as I ought.”
So Christie was content to wait, and, meantime, enjoyed much; for, with Rachel as a friend, she ceased to care for country pleasures, found happiness in the work that gave her better food than mere daily bread, and never thought of change; for love can make a home for itself anywhere.