Not so, however, his young comrade. She
loved life, and hoped to see good days. He reminded her that she had
lost both her parents early.
"Yes," she said, "but my other father and mother prevented me suffering
from their loss. I scarcely recollect it, I was such a happy child. It
would be different now if any of those, young like myself, that I have
grown up with and love very much, were to pass out of sight, and I had
to think that nowhere in the world could I find them any more."
"It would touch you more personally. There was a young fellow drowned at
Oxford whom I knew: we were aghast for a day, but the next we were on
the river again. I recollect how bitterly you cried the morning your
father was buried; all the afternoon you refused to be comforted, even
by a sweet black puppy that I had brought over for the purpose, but in
the evening you took to it and carried it about in your pinafore. Oh,
God and time are very good to us. We lose one love, another steps in to
fill the void, and soon we do not remember that ever there was a void."
Bessie was gazing straight away into heaven, her eyes full of sunshiny
tears, thoughts of the black puppy struggling with more pathetic
thoughts. "We are very dismal, Harry," said she presently. "Is the moral
of it how easily we should be consoled for each other's loss? Would you
not pity me if I died? I should almost die of your death, I think."
"And if I am to live and never do any good, never to be famous, Bessie?
If I come to you some day beaten and jaded--no honors and glories, as I
used to promise--"
"Why, Harry, unless it were your mother no one would be kinder to you
than I would," she said with exquisite tenderness, turning to look in
his face, for he spoke in a strained, low voice as if it hurt him.
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