What! not a word, Lotte—not one little word to say?
No—not one!
At another time, she would have pressed some composure into her service, had it been ever so small; now she could not keep back her deep emotion, nor enlist a word to express even one of the many thoughts crowding, crashing through her brain.
Her whole frame appeared convulsed; she staggered as if she would sink to the seat, but Helen clung to her, sustained her, laid her weeping face upon her bosom.
“Rest thou there, darling!” she murmured. “Oh, Lotte, I am so happy to hold you again in my arms—no more struggles with the world, Lotte; no more unthreading of the web of life with a threaded needle. Dry your tears, my own darling and true heart, for if one mortal can ensure another’s happiness, I will compass yours.”
Happiness, and parted for ever from Mark!
Lotte could not refrain weeping, and Helen, finding it was so, hushed her own quivering voice, and wiped the trembling lids of Lotte; and kissed her pale cheek and forehead, pressing her again and again to her heart.
Lotte at length summoned her old strength of purpose, and putting down with a firm hand the uprising thoughts of her still desolate and lonely condition in life, she strove to obey Helen’s injunctions to light up her sweet pleasant eyes with a smile; and, after one or two efforts, she cleared her aching throat so as to speak.
“In all sincerity,” she said, “I am happy, oh, very happy to see you again and to hear such glad tidings, but I—I am sure I ought not to be thus encircled by your kind arms. You overrate what I have done, and our stations——”
Helen placed her hands over her mouth.