"Once let friendship be given that is born of God, nor time nor
circumstance can change it to a lessening; it must be mutual
growth, increasing trust, widening faith, enduring patience,
forgiving love, unselfish ambition and an affection built before
the Throne, which will bear the test of time and trial."
--_Allen Throckmorton._
"It seems to me, Grace, you have been touching up your complexion with
some of the same paint as that in your roses," exclaimed Kate,
playfully, as she inspected Grace rather critically.
"Really, Kate, you must be more careful, or I shall add the sin of
vanity to my other faults," answered Grace, looking out of the window
and smiling pleasantly, with the least touch of absent mindedness in her
manner.
"No danger of that, you dear old Gracious, but if you should say
secretiveness, I might be willing to stop," said Kate, boldly, yet
hardly daring to look toward the window.
Grace did not answer, but continued looking out of the window for
several minutes. "What makes you say that, Kate?" she asked at last,
turning around soberly, while the rosy flush crept up to her temples and
back of her ears.
"Oh, I don't know, Gracious, only it seems to me you are like a pure
white lily bell, and I want to creep into your heart and live in its
fragrance, but--" She stopped abruptly. It seemed as though the almost
imperceptible veil of reserve was falling lower than ever.
Oh, why could she not gain Grace's confidence? These thoughts passed
rapidly through her mind while she stood as if transfixed, waiting for
Grace to break the interminable silence. If she had only known it, Grace
was nearer to her at that moment than ever before, but with her eyes
cast down, she saw not the yearning look on the face of her friend.
Grace spoke at last:
"But what, Kate?" she asked, taking up Kate's words where they had
dropped.
"But the petals will not open, and I am left out," finished Kate,
determined to be frank.
Grace looked out of the window again, and was about to reply, when a rap
at the door startled them both. It was a boy with a note. "Miss Grace
Hall?" he said, handing it to her.
Grace looked at the letter and then at the boy inquiringly. "I am to
wait for an answer," he said.
"Oh," she murmured, in a dazed way, and hastened to find pen and paper
for reply.
"More mystery! I declare, it is getting interesting," thought Kate,
recovering herself, as she furtively watched the rosy face of Grace.
"Any answer?" asked the boy as he took the note.
"No." The door was shut and Grace sat down beside the picture she had
been working upon, but presently arose and began pacing the room. Kate
looked up at her as she passed, but said nothing. She could see that
some deep thought was struggling for utterance, and wondered much.
After a few moments Grace stopped beside her. "I wish I might speak
freely to you, Kathie, but--" she hesitated, "but it has never been
natural for me to be confidential, and--"
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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