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"Anne! Anne!" she cried. "Sister Anne! Mother Anne of my children!
You have known--you have known all the years and kept it hid!"
She dropped her queenly head and shielded the whiteness of her face
in the coverlid's folds.
"Ay, sister," Anne said, coming a little back to earth, "and from
the first. I found a letter near the sun-dial--I guessed--I loved
you--and could do naught else but guard you. Many a day have I
watched within the rose-garden--many a day--and night--God pardon
me--and night. When I knew a letter was hid, 'twas my wont to
linger near, knowing that my presence would keep others away. And
when you approached--or he--I slipped aside and waited beyond the
rose hedge--that if I heard a step, I might make some sound of
warning. Sister, I was your sentinel, and being so, knelt while on
my guard, and prayed."
"My sentinel!" Clorinda cried. "And knowing all, you so guarded me
night and day, and prayed God's pity on my poor madness and girl's
frenzy!" And she gazed at her in amaze, and with humblest, burning
tears.
"For my own poor self as well as for you, sister, did I pray God's
pity as I knelt," said Anne. "For long I knew it not--being so
ignorant--but alas! I loved him too!--I loved him too! I have
loved no man other all my days. He was unworthy any woman's love--
and I was too lowly for him to cast a glance on; but I was a woman,
and God made us so."
Clorinda clutched her pallid hand.
"Dear God," she cried, "you loved him!"
Anne moved upon her pillow, drawing weakly, slowly near until her
white lips were close upon her sister's ear.
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