Now that she was out of
Bressant's eyeshot, the support afforded by her anger had given way, and
she felt very tired, very reckless, and rather grim. She entered
Sophie's open door, crossed the room heavily, and, with scarcely a
glance at her sister, threw herself plump into the chair by the window.
"Poor child," thought Sophie; "she's so tired with that long journey;
but she'll be refreshed by what I have to tell her."
"I'm so glad you're here," she continued, aloud. "I've never wanted any
one so much,-especially since the last two weeks. A great happiness has
come to me, dear, but I haven't been able fully to enjoy it, because I
couldn't tell you--they didn't want me to write. But I wouldn't tell any
one before you, nor let any one tell you but me, because I wanted to
enjoy your enjoyment all myself."
Sophie had sat down at Cornelia's feet, upon a little wooden cricket
which stood in the window, and had taken one of her hands in both of
hers. Cornelia glanced down at her somewhat indifferently; she had
scarcely attended to what her sister had been saying. But the fathomless
expression of happiness upon Sophie's uplifted face struck through her
gloom and pain. She had never seen any thing like it before, and
probably at no moment of her life had Sophie's earthly content been so
complete.
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