Constance waited a day or two, pondering the matter, and then made a call at the Allen House.
“How were you received?” I asked, on meeting her.
“Kindly,” she said.
“But with indifference?”
“No. Mrs. Dewey was surprised, I thought, but evidently pleased.”
“How long did you stay?”
“Only for a short time.”
“What did you talk about?”
“Scarcely any thing beyond the common-place topics that come up on formal visits. But I penetrated deep enough into her mind to discover the 'aching void' there, which she has been so vainly endeavoring to fill. I do not think she meant to let me see this abyss of wretchedness; but her efforts to hide it were in vain. Unhappy one! She has been seeking to quench an immortal thirst at broken cisterns which can hold no water.”
“Can you do her any good, Constance?” I asked.