Since Louis' departure Clara had had several "pale" days, as she called
them. After Aunt Phebe left us, she seemed to grow weak. I felt worried,
and could not refrain from asking her what troubled her. She turned her
beautiful eyes full on me, and putting both her hands in mine, said:
"I know that Louis heard it, and that he told you, and your secret
sympathy has been a strength to me. It will pass over, Emily, but
Professor Benton is not satisfied. He will not be content that I may not
answer his demand for love. Yes, Emily, his words were soft, but a blade
was beneath them and I could feel that it would have cut my
heart-strings. I thank our Father that I do not love him; I should be so
starved. Emily, I can love your brother,--no, no, not with that best
love," she said quickly, noting, I suppose, the look of wonder in my
eyes, "but I can have that love for him that is founded on great respect
and faith in his pure heart. It is only their art draws them together;
they are not alike, and they will not come too near. The days will
sunder them, and it will be better that they should. But, Emily, I must,
I fear, call Louis back to give me strength. He is a great help to me.
On his heart as on his arm I can rest myself, and I need him so much. I
cannot tell you now, but you will know some time when you are no longer
as strong as now, how the spirit feels the darts that are shot from the
mind of another, and bury their poisoned points in the quivering life.
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