Mary came over to her. “I am going to the post-office,” said she, in a low voice.
“I will go part of the way with you,” said Alice.
The two girls walked on for a little while in silence.
“Mary,” said Alice, presently, “tell me,—what do you expect him to say?”
“Don’t ask me that,” she said, with a shiver.
“I think I can tell you. Your letter, as you quoted it to me, severed all relations between you. But have you not a kind of dim, unacknowledged hope that he will recant his heresies and bridge the chasm between you?”
Mary walked on in silence.
“It is natural that you should nourish such a hope. But suppose it should prove delusive?”
“The die is cast. I must abide the issue. And, Alice,—though you think I have been hasty,—I feel a profound conviction that it is best as it is.”
“Well, good-by! Be brave.” And more than once, as she hastened homeward, Alice passed her hand across her eyes.