"Thank God for that!" exclaimed Clarence, passionately, "I knew--I knew I
should see her. _I knew it_," repeated he, exultingly; and then, overcome
with joy, he bowed his head upon Charlie's shoulder and wept like a child.
"Don't think me foolish, Charlie," apologized he, "I cannot help it. I will
go home now. Oh, brother, I feel so much happier." And with a step less
faint and trembling, he walked back to the carriage.
The following evening he was at home, but so enfeebled with the exertions
of the last two days, as to be obliged to take to his bed immediately after
his arrival. His sister greeted him affectionately, threw her arms about
his neck and kissed him tenderly; years of coldness and estrangement were
forgotten in that moment, and they were once more to each other as they
were before they parted.
Emily tried to appear as though she did not notice the great change in his
appearance, and talked cheerfully and encouragingly in his presence; but
she wept bitterly, when alone, over the final separation which she foresaw
was not far distant.
The nest day Doctor Burdett called, and his grave manner and apparent
disinclination to encourage any hope, confirmed the hopeless impression
they already entertained.
Aunt Ada came from Sudbury at Emily's request; she knew her presence would
give pleasure to Clarence, she accordingly wrote her to come, and she and
Emily nursed by turns the failing sufferer.
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