Page:Elizabeth Jordan--Tales of the cloister.djvu/36

 do when he really had no cares and pretended to have them. And now there is real need of sympathy, I am sure. I have felt—oh, I have felt as if he were a little child that I longed to comfort."

Her voice broke in a paroxysm of coughing, but she went on steadily as soon as it had ceased.

"Now that I am no longer in the class-room, I want you to tell me about him—what he says and how he looks. At times he seems brighter than at others, and smiles the boyish smile I remember so well. I never forgot that, even though I did not care for him." She went on almost fiercely. "Now I wish to know as much of him as I can. That is why I am asking you to tell me of him. And you will do it, Margaret—you will do this for me, whatever you may think." She sat up with sudden strength, and pulled the other's hands away from the face which was hidden in them.

"You are so good," she said, softly. "You wish to say so much, and you say nothing. It is better. Let me talk now, for I cannot talk much longer."

She held her friend's hand against her heart, stroking it absently as she went on.

"It will all be over very soon, and I am reconciled. Do you remember our talk in the