But before he could shape his heart's sympathy into words, her voice
had lost its wildness, and she spoke with the quiet of despair.
"But it's no matter! I've done that since, which separates us as
far asunder as heaven and hell can be." Her voice rose again to the
sharp pitch of agony. "My darling! my darling! even after death I
may not see thee, my own sweet one! she was so good--like a little
angel. What is that text, I don't remember,--the text mother used
to teach me when I sat on her knee long ago; it begins, 'Blessed are
the pure'"--
"Blessed are the pure in heart, for they shall see God."
"Ay, that's it! It would break mother's heart if she knew what I am
now--it did break Mary's heart, you see. And now I recollect it was
about her child I wanted to see you, Jem. You know Mary Barton,
don't you?" said she, trying to collect her thoughts.
Yes, Jem knew her. How well, his beating heart could testify.
"Well, there's something to do for her; I forget what; wait a
minute! She is so like my little girl," said she, raising her eyes
glistening with unshed tears, in search of the sympathy of Jem's
countenance.
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