And again the tears poured forth.
“Why, love?” asked madam.
“Because,” she replied, when she could control her voice, “when I looked up after he found the note, he sat pale and cold as a marble statue. You say you saw it too. I hoped he would at least give me one look of remembrance; but no, he did not, and my heart sank like lead in my bosom. Just then you called me, and I did not dare to look again. I felt so ashamed and grieved.”
“What did you write, darling?”
Dora repeated word for word what she had written.
“There was nothing that you need feel at all ashamed of; and if he is true to you, he will seek you the first moment he is at liberty. And I don’t believe a man with such a face could be untrue!”
“Bless you, auntie!” exclaimed Dora, giving her a little hug, “you make me very happy by saying so.”
“Perhaps,” resumed madam, “he was so taken by surprise that he could not believe it at first, and if you had looked at him again you might have come away with a happier heart.”
Truly she was a “shrewd one at guessing,” for she could not know how nearly the truth she came!
“Do you really think so?” asked Dora, eagerly, the bright look coming again to her eyes.