Presently they were sitting
close together, talking with April faces, and telling their stories
as women must when they meet after the lapse of years. A few letters
had passed between them, but Bella had been abroad, and Christie too
busy living her life to have much time to write about it.
"Your mother, Bella? how is she, and where?"
"Still with Augustine, and he you know is melancholy mad: very
quiet, very patient, and very kind to every one but himself. His
penances for the sins of his race would soon kill him if mother was
not there to watch over him. And her penance is never to leave him."
"Dear child, don't tell me any more; it is too sad. Talk of yourself
and Harry. Now you smile, so I'm sure all is well with him."
"Yes, thank heaven! Christie, I do believe fate means to spare us as
dear old Dr. Shirley said. I never can be gay again, but I keep as
cheerful and busy as I can, for Harry's sake, and he does the same
for mine. We shall always be together, and all in all to one
another, for we can never marry and have homes apart you know. We
have wandered over the face of the earth for several years, and now
we mean to settle down and be as happy and as useful as we can.
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