But
many and many a time, and in many a way, she had made glad hearts by
deeds like that; and now where was she? And was there never a one in
the whole wide world to help her to bear her own sorrow and ease her
pain?
One evening in particular I had been more than usually tormented by
such thoughts. I had been blaming myself bitterly for having allowed
her to go away alone, and when I rode up to my own door I was conscious
of a half-formed resolution to follow her without delay and bring her
back.
Claudia was standing on the steps in the crisp, fresh evening air,
apparently watching for me. She put her arms round my neck when I
alighted, and kissed me.
"Has she written?" I exclaimed, for Claudia was not demonstrative, and
this meant something.
"She is here," was the answer.
My heart gave a great leap, but I could not ask if it were well with
her. I could only look at Claudia, and wonder if it were the moonlight
that made the expression of her face so singularly content and sweet. I
went into the lighted house, and being somewhat dazed and altogether
too eager to see her at once, I dressed for the evening, leisurely, and
then I went to find her.
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