And to convey a message to Flora. Ha! Lotte had forgotten that. He remembered it—that is to say, he conceived the suggestion, because it pointed to an opportunity of calling upon Lotte at some future time with her reply. Lotte was glad he had remembered it, she said she was, and in truth she was, for, without acknowledging so much to herself, she was pleased to think that there would be an opportunity of seeing him again soon.
At last he was gone, and Lotte sat down to her work to think of him, to ply her needle swiftly and mechanically, to have the material upon which she worked every now and then blotted out from her sight, and nothing left in its place but a rich brown face, and deep blue eyes.
Yet she was not so absorbed by her own pleasant thoughts that she wholly forgot one who needed her attention, and who she knew was making a brave effort to struggle with her trial of deep humiliation, to endure it with patience, and to frame herself to meet whatever further mortifications and privations she might have to undergo.
Lotte knew that to keep her in conversation, to look hopefully and in a sanguine spirit to the future, while a dead silence was preserved respecting the past, was the best mode of lifting her out of a killing despondency, and, therefore, much as she was harrassed by the incessant application her work demanded of her, she still, in her pure unselfishness, made the time and opportunity to keep the mind of Helen from dwelling upon the misery of her situation.
Thus, when sitting thinking of Mark Wilton, she remembered that Helen was alone, and though she really, justly, had not an instant to spare from her task, she ran lightly and briskly into her apartment, to tell her that she was again free from visitors, and to persuade her to come and sit with her, and tell her all about the beautiful places she had visited abroad.
She found Helen kneeling by her bedside, her face buried in the coverlet, and her hands clasped in anguish above her head.
She heard her sobs, and, bending over her, she raised her tenderly, and supported her in her arms—
“Come with me,” she said, softly; “come and sit with me. You must not remain alone, dear young lady. It makes you too sad. Come! come!”
She conducted Helen gently to her sitting-room, placed her upon the sofa, and sat by her side. She pillowed her head upon her own soft bosom, and she whispered in her ear—
“Your affliction is sore, indeed, but yet be comforted; for, if all that you have told me be true, and from my heart’s depths I believe you, there is a limit to your selfreproach. Bitter regret and wild despair should be the last emotions of a dying heart. He yet lives, be sure, and living, you are saved. Oh, did he but know that you called to him now with appealing arms, how he would fly to you! Look up, then, dear young lady, in strong conviction that God is merciful, and beneficent. His hand has been laid heavily upon you, but if It has pressed you down, believe that It will raise you up and sustain you in the time to come.”