She held the paper for a long time without opening it, lying quite still with a desolate look on her face that was more than Caroline, her faithful nurse, could stand.
"I declare, if Miss Frances doesn't cheer up, I don't know what I shall do," she said to the seamstress.
After a while Mrs. Marvin began to turn the pages, till she found the story of "The Missing Bridge," with the gay little tune for a heading.
It is doubtful if under ordinary circumstances she would have had patience to read the simple story through, but to-day she found something soothing in its very simplicity.
"No power can destroy the bridge between true and loving hearts." She lay thinking of what Frances had said about her quarrel with Gladys. Ah! many another bridge had been made invisible by clouds of anger and pride. The paper slipped from her grasp. "I did love him so dearly," she cried, clasping her hands; "and I thought he cared for me, but now he has probably forgotten."
"Faith and courage can find the way—" so said the story.
"But I have neither," sighed Mrs. Marvin.
Her unquiet mind seized upon the words of the little song, and all through the day she said them over and over:—
| "The bridge is broke and I have to mend it." |
The clock ticked:—