Could she have been alone with her mother, the
struggle would not have been so painful; but there was the necessity
that she should talk to Isabella Holmes, and the necessity also that
she should not neglect the Coverdales. Nothing could have been
kinder than Bella. She did not speak on the subject till the
morning of the last day, and then only in a very few words.
"Bessy," she said, "as you are great, be merciful."
"But I am not great, and it would not be mercy."
"As to that," said Bella, "he has surely a right to his own
opinion."
On that evening she was sitting alone in her room when her mother
came to her, and her eyes were red with weeping. Pen and paper were
before her, as though she were resolved to write, but hitherto no
word had been written.
"Well, Bessy," said her mother, sitting down close beside her; "is
the deed done?"
"What deed, mamma? Who says that I am to do it?"
"The deed is not the writing, but the resolution to write. Five
words will be sufficient,--if only those five words may be written."
"It is for one's whole life, mamma. For his life, as well as my
own."
"True, Bessy;--that is quite true. But equally true whether you bid
him come or allow him to remain away. That task of making up one's
mind for life, must at last be done in some special moment of that
life.
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