"Shall I ever see you again, Estelle? It is sad, but I think not;
it is not so easy to forget as to write it. Perhaps some day I send
you a line--no, perhaps some day I send you a message; but you will
not know where I am; and if you are my friend you will not seek to
know. Adieu, Estelle! I hope you will always be happy, as you are
good; but even in your happiest days you will sometimes give a
thought to poor Nina."
He sat there looking at the letter, long after he had finished reading
it; there was nothing of the petulance of a spoiled child in this
simple, this heartbroken farewell. And Nina herself was in every phrase
of it--in her anxiety not to be a trouble to any one--her gratitude for
very small kindnesses--her wish to live in the gentle remembrance of her
friends.
"But why did no one stop her?--why did no one remonstrate?" he asked, in
a sort of stupefaction.
"Who could, then?" said Mlle. Girond, returning to her seat and clasping
her hands in front of her. "As soon as the housemaid appears in the
morning, Nina asks her to come into the room; the money is put into an
envelope for Mrs. Grey; the not great luggage is taken quiet down the
stair, so that no one is disturbed.
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