Bella continued her walk for some time, but at last could not resist
the temptation. She came and sat down on the bench, and blushed; as
much as to say, "I have the courage to come, but not to speak upon a
certain subject, which shall be nameless."
The Sister, as may be imagined, was not so shy. She opened a
conversation. "I committed a fault yesterday. I spoke to you of myself,
and of the past: it is discouraged by our rules. We are bound to
inquire the griefs of others; not to tell our own."
This was a fair opening, but Bella was too delicate to show her wounds
to a fresh acquaintance.
The Sister, having failed at that, tried something very different.
"But I could tell you a pitiful case about another. Some time ago I
nursed a gentleman whom love had laid on a sick-bed."
"A gentleman! What! can they love as we do?" said Bella, bitterly.
"Not many of them; but this was an exception. But I don't know whether
I ought to tell these secrets to so young a lady."
"Oh, yes--please--what else is there in this world worth talking about?
Tell me about the poor man who could love as we can."
The Sister seemed to hesitate, but at last decided to go on.
"Well, he was a man of the world, and he had not always been a good
man; but he was trying to be.
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