So I went with my cousin, and the joy in Betty's eyes
whenever we entered her room was not the sort that would come because she
was glad to see Frances.
* * * * *
During the first week of Bettina's illness she was too sick to talk,
therefore we did not remain long with her. But as she grew better our
visits lengthened, and my poor resolutions grew weaker day by day because
my love for the girl was growing stronger and stronger hour by hour.
On one occasion while Frances's back was turned, Betty impulsively
snatched up my hand and kissed it, dropping it instantly, blushing
intensely and covering her tracks by humming the refrain of a French
lullaby. I longed to return the caress, but did not, and took great
credit to myself because of my self-denial. Betty understood my sacrifice
and appreciated it, feeling sure that she need not thereafter restrain
herself for the purpose of restraining me.
During those times I was making an honest effort to do the right by this
beautiful child-woman and to save my own honor unsullied from the sin of
making her unhappy for life through winning her love beyond her power to
recall; and my effort toward the right, like all such efforts, achieved
at least a part of the good for which I strove.
One day after our visit to Betty's room, Frances asked me to take her to
see George. I suspected that she had seen him frequently, but was not
sure.
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