I had of course written to them a good deal about the poor child, and Bella had already formed an attachment to her in imagination. She started up on hearing Ivanka’s name, and held out both hands. The child ran to her as naturally as the needle turns to the pole.
While my mother and I were talking in a low tone about Nicholas, I could not avoid hearing parts of a conversation between my sister and Ivanka that surprised me much.
“Yes, oh! yes, I am quite sure of it. Your brother told me that he said he would never, never, never be so wicked as to let you come and see him, although he loved you so much that he—”
“Hush, my dear child, not so loud.”
Bella’s whisper died away, and Ivanka resumed—
“Yes, he said there was almost nothing of him left. He was joking, you know, when he said that, but it is not so much of a joke after all, for I saw—”
“Oh! hush, dear, hush; tell me what he said, and speak lower.”
Ivanka spoke so low that I heard no more, but what had reached my ear was sufficient to let me know how the current ran, and I was not sorry that poor Bella’s mind should be prepared for the terrible reality in this way.
The battle of love was fought and won that day at Nicholas’s bedside, and, as usual, woman was victorious.
I shall not weary the reader with all that was said. The concluding sentences will suffice.