Then the stout admiral mingled his tears with hers, and began to realize what deep waters of affliction his girl was wading in.
Yet he saw no way out but firmness. He wrote to Sir Charles to say that his daughter was too ill to write; but that no explanation was possible, and no interview could be allowed.
Sir Charles, who, after writing, had conceived the most sanguine hopes, was now as wretched as Bella. Only, now that he was refused a hearing, he had wounded pride to support him a little under wounded love.
Admiral Bruce, fearing for his daughter's health, and even for her life--she pined so visibly--now ordered her to divide her day into several occupations, and exact divisions of time--an hour for this, an hour for that; an hour by the clock--and here he showed practical wisdom. Try it, ye that are very unhappy, and tell me the result.
As a part of this excellent system, she had to walk round the square from eleven to twelve A. M., but never alone; he was not going to have Sir Charles surprising her into an interview. He always went with her, and, as he was too stiff to walk briskly, he sat down, and she had to walk in sight. He took a stout stick with him--for Sir Charles. But Sir Charles was proud, and stayed at home with his deep wound.
One day, walking round the square with a step of Mercury and heart of lead, Bella Bruce met a Sister of Charity pacing slow and thoughtful; their eyes met and drank, in a moment, every feature of each other.
The Sister, apparently, had seen the settled grief on that fair face; for the next time they met, she eyed her with a certain sympathy, which did not escape Bella.
This subtle interchange took place several times and Bella could not help feeling a little grateful. “Ah!” she thought to herself, “how kind religious people are! I should like to speak to her.” And the next time they met she looked wistfully in the Sister's face.
She did not meet her again, for she went and rested on a bench, in sight of her father, but at some distance from him. Unconsciously to herself, his refusal even to hear Sir Charles repelled her. That was so hard on him and her. It looked like throwing away the last chance, the last little chance of happiness.