From Out the Old Life
Jack carried me to Mr. Walton's, he came, too, so full of sympathy and so anxious to help—though there was nothing he could do. He was always so kind. I remember now a thousand things that he did which did not impress me then, for I was only sixteen."
She stopped, for breathing was growing difficult. The other looked at her with a growing comprehension. Much was suddenly explained—so much more than was told in the halting words.
"Then, when he came here," Sister Edgar continued, resolutely, "at first I did not know him, and he has never recognized me. When I remembered him all the past came back, and the old friendship with it, and somehow his being here has helped me through these last hard months. He is so strong and so good! I know he would do anything for me that he could if he knew, but I am glad he does not. He used to call me his little sister, and pretend to tell me all his secrets and ask my advice. I was so proud of it, and I felt so grown up! I believe I advised him freely." She stopped and laughed a little. "And he is unhappy, too. I do not know why, but I feel it. Perhaps that is what has drawn me to him—the thought of his trouble. It seemed as if he ought to tell me about it, as he used to
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