_July 10th._--To-day Constance would not come to the Cottage with
me, although Jane Norton had most particularly wished it. I think
she avoids Gabriel,--it may be my fancy, or perhaps mere chance;
otherwise it still seems to me that she does not know she loves him.
She came up to me in the morning, to help me pack my papers; we
idled, we wandered restlessly about my disordered room. Suddenly she
came to me as I leaned over my strong-box, and, clasping me round
the shoulders, laid her head down on the back of my neck.
"Dear," she said, "do you remember your birthday at Florence, when I
helped you with your books?"
I stood up and took her to me.
"Yes," said I; "and I would that day were back again."
She gave a sigh, a little shiver. I felt it. But she said:
"Silly, big thing, how can you talk so? You are going to be so
happy!"
"Why, yes," I replied; "that's true."
Poor little Constance! To-day I may say it, to-day she is still the
poorer. Soon 'twill be poor Emilia.
_July 11th._--To-day they met again. I am not schooled, I have not
learned my lesson, and now I know that I shall never learn it.
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