It was this, no doubt, that stirred the suggestion in
my mind."
Constance waited a day or two, pondering the matter, and then made a
call at the Allen House.
"How were you received?" I asked, on meeting her.
"Kindly," she said.
"But with indifference?"
"No. Mrs. Dewey was surprised, I thought, but evidently pleased."
"How long did you stay?"
"Only for a short time."
"What did you talk about?"
"Scarcely any thing beyond the common-place topics that come up on
formal visits. But I penetrated deep enough into her mind to
discover the 'aching void' there, which she has been so vainly
endeavoring to fill. I do not think she meant to let me see this
abyss of wretchedness; but her efforts to hide it were in vain.
Unhappy one! She has been seeking to quench an immortal thirst at
broken cisterns which can hold no water."
"Can you do her any good, Constance?" I asked.
"If we would do good, we must put ourselves in the way," she
replied. "Nothing is gained by standing afar off."
"Then you mean to call upon her again?"
"She held my hand at parting, with such an earnest pressure, and
looked at me so kindly when she said, 'Your visit has been very
pleasant,' that I saw the way plain before me.
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