OCR Text |
Show Page 230 Then I realized the import of his words. "Your"sister?" I asked. "You have made no mention of a sister ere now." He nodded weakly. "Jane," he whispered. "She came next after me. But she ran off to London when she was sixteen. She married a good man, but died a few years later. I visited her once after the wedding and she ran to greet me just as you did today." Suddenly I was as warm all over as had been my cheeks moments earlier, so glad I was that it was his sister, not his fiancee, whose name John had spoken. I fear I sat with a silly smile upon my lips, for at last John asked: "Why is it you sit thus, looking as does the barnyard cat who has found the bucket of cream?" "I thought it was Jane Fiske you saw and hoped for when you stepped ashore," I answered in a small voice. John gave a short shake of his head upon his pillow. "Nay, there is only one I hoped to see awaiting me on shore, and she was there, though at the time I knew it not." At that moment the last trace of all the burdens, the hopeless longings, the fears of the past weeks let loose of my heart. Indeed, I was quite undone by the relief of it all and burst into tears. "What is it?" John asked, a worried frown appearing upon his white face. "Do not tell me once again you do not love me, for I shan't believe you." |