Aikenside - Page 78/166

At last the answer came, and it was Maddy who brought it to Guy. She

had been home that day, and on her return had ridden by the office as

Guy had requested her to do. She saw the letter bore a foreign

postmark, also that it was in the delicate handwriting of some female,

but the sight did not affect her in the least. Maddy's heart was far

too heavy that day to care for a trifle, and so placing the letter

carefully in her basket she kept on to Aikenside.

The letter was decidedly Lucy-ish in all that pertained to her

"dearest darling," her "precious Guy," but when she came to Maddy

Clyde, her true, womanly nature spoke; and Guy, while reading it, felt

how good she was. Of course he might teach Maddy Clyde all he wished

to teach her, and it made Lucy love him better to know that he was

willing to do such things. She wished she was there to help him; they

would open a school for all the poor, but she did not know when mamma

would let her come. That pain in her side was not any better, and her

cough had come earlier this season than last. The physician had

advised a winter in Naples, and they were going before very long. It

would be pleasant there, no doubt, only she should be farther away

from her boy Guy, but she would think of him, oh, so often, teaching

that dear little Maddy Clyde, and she would pray for him, too, just as

she always did. Then followed a few more lines sacred to the lover's

eye, lines which told how pure was the love which sweet Lucy

Atherstone bore for Guy Remington, who, as he read, felt his heart

beat with a throb of pain, for Lucy spoke to him now for the first

time of what might possibly be.

"I've dreamed about it nights," she said. "I've thought about it days,

and tried so hard to be reconciled; to feel that if God will have it

so, I am willing to die before you have ever called me your little

wife, or I have ever called you husband. Heaven is better than earth,

I know, and I am sure of going there, I think, but oh, dear Guy, a

life with you looks so very sweet, that sometimes your little Lucy

shrinks from the dark grave, which would hide her forever from you.

Guy, you once said you never prayed, and it made me feel so badly, but

you will, when you get this, won't you? You will ask God to make me

well, and may be He will hear you. Do, Guy, please do pray for your

Lucy, far away over the sea."