“How quiet and still it is!” said Phillis, in an awe-struck voice. “When we are tired we must come here to rest ourselves. How prettily those baby waves seem to babble! it is just like the gurgle of baby laughter. And look at Laddie splashing in that pool: he is after that poor little crab. Come here, you rogue!” But Laddie, intent upon his sport, only cocked his ear restlessly and refused to obey.
“Yes, it is lovely,” returned Nan. “There is quite a silvery path over the water; by and by the sunset clouds will be beautiful. But what is the matter, dear?” as Phillis sighed and leaned heavily against her; and then, as she turned, she saw the girl’s eyes were wet. 128
“Oh, Nan! shall we have strength for it? That is what I keep asking myself to-day. No you must not look so frightened. I am brave enough generally, and I do not mean to lose pluck; but now and then the thought will come to me, Shall we have strength to go through with it?”
“We must think of each other; that must keep us up,” returned Nan, whose ready sympathy fully understood her sister’s mood. Only to Nan would Phillis ever own her failure of courage or fears for the future. But now and then the brave young heart needed comfort, and always found it in Nan’s sympathy.
“It was looking at your dear beautiful face that made me feel so suddenly bad this morning,” interrupted Phillis, with a sort of sob. “It was not the people so much; they only amused and excited me, and I kept thinking, ‘If they only knew!’ But, Nan, when I looked at you—oh, why are you so nice and pretty, if you have got to do this horrid work?”
“I am not a bit nicer than you and Dulce,” laughed Nan, embracing her, for she never could be made to understand that by most people she was considered their superior in good looks. The bare idea made her angry. “It is worse for you, Phillis, because you are so clever and have so many ideas. But there! we must not go on pitying each other, or else, indeed, we shall undermine our little stock of strength.”
“But don’t you feel terribly unhappy sometimes?” persisted Phillis. Neither of them mentioned Dick, and yet he was in both their minds.
“Perhaps I do,” returned Nan, simply; and then she added, with quaintness that was pathetic, “You see, we are so unused to the feeling, and it is over-hard at first: by and by we shall be more used to not having our own way in things.”
“I think I could give up that readily, if I could be sure you and Dulce were not miserable,” sighed Phillis.
“That is what I say,” returned Nan. “Don’t you see how simple and beautiful that is? Thinking of each other gives us strength to go through with it all. This evening trying to cheer you up has done me good. I do not feel the least afraid of people to-night. Looking at that sea and sky makes one feel the littleness and unreality of all these worries. What does it matter—what does anything matter—if we only do our duty and love each other, and submit to the Divine will?” finished Nan, reverently, who seldom spoke of her deeper feelings, even to Phillis.