"And so you are in love, poor child!" said Mrs. Sandford,
compassionately.
"I have been" (with a gentle emphasis).
"Ah, you think you are past it now, I suppose?"
"I sha'n't _forget_ soon,--I could not, if I would; but love is
over,--gone like yesterday's sunshine."
"But the sun shines again to-day."
"Well, if you prefer another comparison," said Alice, smiling
faintly,--"gone out like yesterday's fire."
"Fire lurks a long time in the ashes unseen, my dear."
Alice dropped her needle and looked steadily at her companion.
"I am young," she said; "yet I have outgrown the school-girl period.
The current of my life has flowed in a deep channel: the shallow little
brook may fancy its first spring-freshet to be a Niagara; but my
feelings have swelled with no transient overflow. I gave my utmost love
and devotion to a man I thought worthy. He treated me with neglect, and
at last falsified his word in offering his hand to another, I do not
hate him. I have none of that alchemy which changes despised love to
gall. But I could never forgive him, nor trust him again. And if he,
who seemed always so frank, so earnest, so tender, so single in his
aims,--if he could not be trusted, I do not know where I could rest my
heart and say,--'Here I am safe, whatever betide!'"
It was a strange thing for Alice to speak in such an exalted strain, and
she trembled as she tried to resume her sewing.
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