There was no mistaking the meaning of those lines; love breathed from
every letter, and, with a hasty look round to make sure she was alone,
the happy girl pressed the inanimate paper, satin, printer's ink, and
colours to her lips as though in answer to the message it contained.
The feeling of loneliness had vanished; there was some one who loved
her, to whom she was dearer than all others, and the world looked
different in consequence. It was a happy Christmas Day to her after all,
in spite of her depressing surroundings; and Miss Clayton noticed the
change in her young nurse, and in the evening, when thanking her for all
she had done for her, hoped she had not found it "so very dull."
That night Selina Martyn, foolish in her new-found happiness, placed the
envelope, around which the damp still hung, beneath her pillow, and
dreamed of the bright future she deemed in store for her.
He would write to her, or perhaps come and see her; yes, he would come
and see her, and let her hear from his own lips what his missive had so
plainly hinted at. And in her happiness she waited. She waited, and
waited till her heart grew sick with disappointed longing.
The days passed, but never a word came from the one who had grown so
dear to her, and as they passed the gladness faded from her face, and
the light went out from her eyes.
At last she could but feel that she had been mistaken.
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