“But it has with you. Oh! it has with you,” urged Lotte, vehemently; “a glimmering light there is to penetrate the foulest vault of sin and despair. Have but faith in me, and I will show you, though it be as a star shining afar, the beacon of hope burning steadily. Perhaps you have not yet tested the value of sincere friendship; perhaps you know not what peace may be won by pouring your sorrows in a tenderly attentive ear, or confiding your fears, your worst forebodings—even your sins—for alas! we are all more or less tainted—to a sympathising breast.”
The young lady squeezed Lotte’s hands spasmodically.
“I never had such a friend—I know not what it means,” she said, her lips quivering with emotion.
“Let me he such a one to you,” exclaimed Lotte, with intense eagerness—“humble, but truthful. Come, let us away from this dark, lonely place. Come with me for so long as you will. I live by myself—quite, quite alone. No one visits me, for I am humble—very humble, but oh! I am happy now, and I will strive to bring back peacefulness and calm to your poor disturbed heart. I will not ask you one word about the past. I will not seek for your confidence, but will act always as though I possessed it. Your station, it is evident, is far higher than mine, but you can think me a foster sister—though still, in all tenderness of affection and loving service, a sister.”
She felt the limbs of the young stranger tremble She saw that she shook like an aspen from head to foot, and she rose up to catch her in her arms, for she knew that she yearned to fall within them and weep—weep long and bitterly.
At length Lotte, whose eye from time to time rested painfully upon the still, almost mist-hidden river, passed her arm gently round the waist of the young lady, and drew her softly away.
She was yet sobbing, but she made no resistance.
Lotte’s earnest sincerity had subdued her haughty pride; it had found its way to her heart and to her reason. It suddenly and unexpectedly offered a future where before all had been blank obscurity; it opened up to her a store of womanly sympathy and service, which until now she had credited, but not found; and what weighed much with her, it offered her with life a secret seclusion, for that was now as needful to her as life itself; and so she accepted the new position, as though she had suffered herself to be persuaded and had yielded.
Yet she thought, as she went on, clinging to Lotte’s supporting arm—
“If this is to be humble, how large the price paid by rank to become ignorant of human worth!”