She was in nowise disposed to bear malice. She remembered too well how glad she had been, at the time, of an available pretext for leaving Berganton; besides, the Major had certainly made all possible amends for his hasty action.
Moreover, Mrs. Lyte's death-bed had not been without its softening and salutary effect upon her mind, also. Although she had fallen, for a time, into that saddest of all infidelities—a distrust of God's goodness to His children—the last lovely moments of her mother's life, the last grateful, joyous words from her mother's lips, and the still brightness of her mother's dead face, had set her feet—for a little while at least—on those Heights of Contemplation, whence life is seen to be good and valuable, not for what it is, but for what it shapes out; not for the materials that it heaps together, or the tools that it uses, but for the character which it moulds unto perfection, the soul which it slowly chisels into beauty and dignity and strength. So viewed, these last months of adversity became but the fine, finishing touches of the Master's hand, to Mrs. Lyte's already lovely spirit, and Major Bergan but one of the blind, necessary instruments, operating better than he knew or willed.
And come what would, Astra could nevermore forget that broad view of the real work and object of life's events; faith would ever after be easier for those moments of clear sight. She came back from her mother's grave with a bereaved heart, but with a spirit more at rest than it had been for many months; and her face wore the same expression of gentle, sweet resignation, which had been the prevailing characteristic of her mother's for years.
She came back—but not to the dingy little house, nor the desolate rooms, and certainly not to the straitened circumstances. Miss Thane had taken Bergan into her confidence, on the day before, and asked the favor of his superintendence of certain final steps toward the accomplishment of a plan that she had conceived and partly executed. Money and good-will, working together, usually achieve wonders in comparatively short space of time; as the result of their present cooperation, Astra was set down at Miss Thane's door on her return from Berganton, late at night, and ushered into a suite of rooms, opposite Diva's own, handsomely fitted up for the accommodation of herself and Cathie. One was a studio, to which all her own pictures, statues, and other artistic belongings had been carefully transferred, and skilfully arranged to produce an accustomed and home-like effect. Another was a pleasant little parlor, with her books and her work-basket on the centre-table, to lend it a familiar grace; and in the bedroom beyond, her faithful old Chloe was waiting, with joyful tears in her eyes, to welcome and to attend upon her.
Astra turned to her cousin, and tried to speak; but the too heavily freighted words were slow in coming forth, and Diva anticipated them by taking both her hands in hers, and saying gently;—
"We are sisters, now, Astra: children of twin mothers, and left alone in the world,—I more completely, even, than you; what better thing can we do, at least for the present, than to unite our forces, having one home, and living, loving, and laboring together for the same, or kindred ends? And Cathie shall be our joint charge; that, having two watchful elder sisters, she may never know, even partially, what I know so well, the misery of a motherless childhood. Is it a compact?"
Astra bowed her head in acquiescence, and her eyes shone bright through grateful tears. She was relieved beyond measure, to know that she was not to face the world single-handed. The loneliness that she had so dreaded was not to be encountered, the heavy responsibility of her little sister's care and training was to be, in some degree, shared. In Diva's strength and steadfastness of character, which she felt by intuition, and in its sweetness, which she had found out at her mother's bedside, as very few had done before her, there would be all needful protection, aid, and comfort; while, in its subtle quality of a wise and delicate reserve, there was ample assurance of respect for her own individuality, freedom for her own way of thought and work. Finally, thanks to Major Bergan's generous action in respect of the mortgage, she need not fear to be a burden on her cousin. Either by sale or lease, the place could be made to yield her a fixed moderate income, and her own labor would do the rest.
She did not suspect the extent of Diva's resources, nor what pleasant plans for her own and Cathie's happiness and advantage she was turning over in her mind. Of these things Diva would breathe no word, until the sisterhood of which she had spoken had become so real and firm a bond as to preclude any sense of obligation.
Meanwhile, the fact of living no more to herself, of having some one else to think of, to care for, to comfort and cheer, was doing wonderfully effective work in clearing and softening Diva's own character,—in uprooting the weeds which had chiefly testified to the richness of the underlying soil heretofore, and giving the plants of grace leave to branch out and blossom and bear fruit. Daily, as Bergan met her, in his visits to Astra's studio, or his walks, he saw that something was gone from the chill pride and weariness of her old expression, something added of sweetness, softness, and benignity, yet without any loss of that still and stately grace, in which had subsisted so potent a charm. Daily, too, he marvelled at her increasingly magnificent beauty; over which, none the less, still lingered some faint shadow from the past, like the soft haze hanging over an autumn landscape, and constituting its last, consummate grace. He could not help wondering whence that shadow came, and how it was to go, since it always gave him an indefinable impression of being connected with his own destiny.
One day he met her in the street alone, but, as he never presumed in the least upon the half confidential relations into which circumstances had thrown them, he was passing on with a courteous bow, when she stopped him.