"Oh, my darling--my love--my own Betty! I don't know--and I won't
ask--but speak to me--speak just a word--my dearest dear!"
Betty raised her up and drew her within the room, closing the door
behind them.
"Kind little Rosy," she said. "I came to speak--because we two love each
other. You need not ask, I will tell you. That bell is tolling for the
man who taught me--to KNOW. He never spoke to me of love. I have not one
word or look to remember. And now---- Oh, listen--listen! I have been
listening since the morning of yesterday." It was an awful thing--her
white face, with all the flame of life swept out of it.
"Don't listen--darling--darling!" Rosy cried out in anguish. "Shut your
ears--shut your ears!" And she tried to throw her arms around the high
black head, and stifle all sound with her embrace.
"I don't want to shut them," was the answer. "All the unkindness and
misery are over for him, I ought to thank God--but I don't. I shall
hear--O Rosy, listen!--I shall hear that to the end of my days."
Rosy held her tight, and rocked and sobbed.
"My Betty," she kept saying. "My Betty," and she could say no more. What
more was there to say? At last Betty withdrew herself from her arms, and
then Rosalie noticed for the first time that she wore the habit.
Pages:
853
854
855
856
857
858
859
860
861
862
863
864
865
866
867
868
869
870
871
872
873
874
875
876
877