Josephine blushed. Rose smiled and
kissed her. She colored higher still, and said, "No, she was ashamed to
go down."
"Why?"
"Look at my face."
"I see nothing wrong with it, except that it eclipses other people's,
and I have long forgiven you that."
"Oh, yes, dear Rose: look what a color it has, and a fortnight ago it
was pale as ashes."
"Never mind; do you expect me to regret that?"
"Rose, I am a very bad woman."
"Are you, dear? then hook this for me."
"Yes, love. But I sometimes think you would forgive me if you knew how
hard I pray to be better. Rose, I do try so to be as unhappy as I ought;
but I can't, I can't. My cold heart seems as dead to unhappiness as once
it was to happiness. Am I a heartless woman after all?"
"Not altogether," said Rose dryly. "Fasten my collar, dear, and don't
torment yourself. You have suffered much and nobly. It was Heaven's
will: you bowed to it. It was not Heaven's will that you should be
blighted altogether. Bow in this, too, to Heaven's will: take things
as they come, and do cease to try and reconcile feelings that are too
opposite to live together.
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