Between Darkness and Dawn
"You are glad to see me," she said, quietly—"and you are not afraid."
The doctor put the hand to her lips and held it there. It was firm and cool, and there was the same velvety texture which the school-girl of twenty years ago had secretly admired. She echoed the other's words.
"Afraid, Sister?" she said. "Of you? Never in the world. My heart is too full of love and gratitude."
She bent nearer to the other as she spoke, but as she did so the nun's figure drew slightly away. The movement did not hurt her. She understood, and there could be no thought of disappointment in the presence of that steadfast, loving smile. She sank back on the pillow with a sigh of perfect content and happiness.
"You have come," she murmured. "You said you would, and I have looked for you all these years since you left me."
"You did not need me before. You thought you did at times," added the nun, "but you did not. Could you think that I would fail when the hour came? You need me now, and I am here."
"Tell me of yourself," begged the doctor.
The Sister shook her head. "That I am here, through God's mercy, tells you that all
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