A
beautiful English girl! No-I never could mistake Lovedy."
"Cecile," continued Mme. Malet, "you say you would know this Lovedy
when you saw her. See! Look well at me--the light is shining on my
face. What kind of face have I got, Cecile?"
"Fair," answered Cecile--"very fair and very beautiful. Your eyes,
they are blue as the sky; and your lips, how red they are, and how
they can smile! And your teeth are very white; and then your hair, it
is like gold when the sun makes it all dazzling. And--and----"
"And I am English-an English girl," continued Madame.
"An English girl!" repeated Cecile, "you--are--like _her_--then!"
"Cecile, I am her--_I am Lovedy Joy_!"
"You! you!" repeated Cecile. "You Lovedy! But no, no; you are
Suzanne--you are Mme. Malet."
"Nevertheless I was--I am Lovedy Joy. I am that wicked girl who
broke her mother's heart; I am that wicked girl who left her. Cecile,
I am she whom you seek; you have no further search to make--poor,
brave, dear little sister--I am she."
Then Lovedy put her arms round Cecile, and they mingled their tears
together. The woman wept from a strong sense of remorse and pain, but
the child's tears were all delight.
"And you are the Susie about whom Mammie Moseley used to fret? Oh,
it seems _too_ good, too wonderful!" said Cecile at last.
"Yes, Cecile, I left Mammie Moseley too; I did everything that was
heartless and bad. Oh, but I have been unhappy. Surrounded by mercies
as I have been, there has been such a weight, so heavy, so dreadful,
ever on my heart.
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