“I have faith!”
“I cannot see with my heart.”
“I would you could, Igraine.”
“Perhaps you are right.”
Garlotte put on her shift and frock with a sigh, and straightway went and kissed Igraine on the forehead. They sat close together under the tree and watched the valley grow dim as death, and the pool black and lustrous as a mirror turned to the twilight. Garlotte’s warm heart was yearning to Igraine; her arm was close about her, and presently Igraine’s head rested upon her shoulder. She began to tell the girl many things in a still, stifled voice; her bitterness gushed out like fermented wine, and for a season she was comforted—with no lasting balm indeed, for there was but one soul in the world that could give her that.
“Believe, Igraine, believe,” said Garlotte very softly.
“Believe—child!”
“That there is good for every one in the world if we wait and watch in patience.”
“I seem to have watched years go by, and life stretches out from me as a sea at night.”