"Oh, Martha!"

"Oh, Sally!--and so do you. But there's this I will say: if I were to
love a man, neither he nor any other living soul should know it, until
he had told me with his own lips that his heart had chosen me."

The strength of conviction in Martha's grave, gentle voice, struck Sally
dumb. Her lips were sealed on the delicious secret she was longing, and
yet afraid, to disclose. _He_ had not spoken: she hoped he loved her,
she was sure she loved him. Did she speak now, she thought, she would
lower herself in Martha's eyes. With a helpless impulse, she threw one
arm over the latter's neck, and kissed her cheek. She did not know that
with the kiss she had left a tear.

"Sally," said Martha, in a tender whisper, "I only spoke for myself.
Some hearts must be silent, while it is the nature of others to speak
out. You are not afraid of me: it will be womanly in you to tell me
everything. Your cheek is hot: you are blushing. Don't blush, Sally
dear, for I know it already."

Sally answered with an impassioned demonstration of gratitude and
affection. Then she spoke; but we will not reveal the secrets of her
virgin heart. It is enough that, soothed and comforted by Martha's wise
counsel and sympathy, she sank into happy slumber at her side.




CHAPTER VI.