"Mrs. Chloe does not talk any more about the set of chairs she was going to begin in the spring," remarked Amabel. "She never says anything now about getting well when the warm weather comes, but I think she seems a great deal happier than she used."
"She has given up!" said I. "You know dear Mother Superior used to say that there was great happiness in giving up. Mrs. Chloe told me the other day, that you and Mr. Cheriton, between you, had done her more good than you would ever know."
"I am sure I am very glad to hear it!" said Amabel, her quiet eyes shining with pleasure.
"Lucy, what have I done that I should be so happy? While you that are so much better in every way—"
Amabel stopped short. It was the first time she had given me a hint that she had guessed my secret.
"Don't, please, Amabel!" said I. "I hope I can bear all I am called on to endure, but I can't bear to hear it talked about even by you. Forgive me, dear!" For I was afraid I might have hurt her.
"There is nothing to forgive!" said Amabel, pressing my arm in hers. "I should feel just so."
We walked home without any more words, and I shut myself up alone awhile. Comfort came to me by and by, and when Mrs. Chloe remarked, as I kissed her good-night, that this had been a happy day, I was glad to be able to agree with her.
The next day but one, as Amabel and I were returning from the village school, we were astonished to meet Mr. Cheriton. His face was pale, his dress disordered, and his jaded horse showed how fast he had travelled. It was just at the entrance of the avenue, and one of the grooms being at hand, Mr. Cheriton gave him the horse, with a charge to be careful of him, as he had made a hasty journey.
"We were not looking for you!" said Amabel. "What has brought you in such a hurry?" Then turning pale as Mr. Cheriton did not answer, "Walter, what is it! You have ill news. What does it mean?"