‘ I have sent away my carriage, Mary, and come to stay with you. You want me, n’est-ce pas? ’ she said, coaxingly, with her arms round Mary’s neck; ‘if you don’t, tant pis; for I am the bad penny you English speak of, you cannot get me off.’
‘ I am sure, dear friend,’ said Mary, earnestly, ‘we don’t want to put you off.’
‘ I know it; you are true, you mean what you say; you are all good real gold, down to your hearts; that is why I love you; but you, my poor Mary, your cheeks are very white; poor little heart, you suffer.’
‘ No,’ said Mary; ‘I do not suffer now. Christ has given me the victory over sorrow.’
There was something sadly sublime in the manner in which this was said, and something so sacred in the expression of Mary’s face, that Madame de Fron
