Hearts Afire by J. D Rawden, Patrick Griffith Page B

of
tenderness, to be faithful to him if he lived, to be faithful to his memory if
he died. She never thought of Sir Edward; or, if she did, it was with an anger
that frightened her. In the full tide of her anguish. Charlotte Morgan had
become a woman that night, and a woman's sorrow had found her.
    Once in the garden. Lysbet noticed his face was
troubled, his clothing disarranged and blood-stained; and his wife never
remembered to have seen him so completely exhausted. “Guy Barrington is with
Sir Edward,” he blurted out; “he will not be home.”
    “And the other?”
    “I witnessed them carry—him. To the “King's Arms” they took him. I stayed
for a moment; that is all.”
    “Live will he?”
    “His right lung is pierced clean through. A bad wound
in the throat he has. At death's door is he, from loss of the blood. But then,
youth he has, and a great spirit, and hope. I wish not for his death, my God
knows.”
    “Sir Edward, what of him?”
    “Unconscious he was when I left him. I stayed not there. His father and Guy
Barrington were by his side Does Charlotte know?”
    “She knows.”
    “How then?”
    “The words of trouble fly faster on the wings of vultures, then do the good
tidings of a song bird.”
    “O Joris , if in her room thou could have heard her
crying! My heart for her aches, the sorrowful one!”
    “See, then, that this lesson she miss not. It is a hard one, but learn it
she must. If thy love would pass it by, think this, for her good it is. Many
bitter things are in it. What unkind words will now be said! With our own people
a disgrace it will be counted. Can I not hear towns folk grumble, and that evil
old woman, Madam Van Corlaer , will shake her head and
whisper, Yes, neighbors, and depend upon it, the girl is of a light mind and
bad morals, and it is her fault; and I shall take care my nieces to her speak
no more. So it will be; Charlotte herself will find it so.”
    The next morning was the Sabbath, and many painful
questions suggested themselves to Joris and Lysbet . Joris felt that he must
not take his seat among the deacons until he had been fully exonerated of all
blame of blood-guiltiness by his elders and deacons in full kirk session. Madam
could hardly endure the thought of the glances that would be thrown at her
daughter, but these things did not seem to Joris a sufficient
reason for neglecting worship. He thought it best for people to face the
unpleasant consequences of wrong-doing; and he added, “In trouble also, my dear
ones, where should we go but into the house of the good God?”
    Charlotte had not spoken during the discussion but, when it was over, she
said, “ My dear mother , today I cannot go! For me have some pity. Bear it I cannot. I shall fall down, I shall be ill;
and there shall be shame and fear, and the service to make stop, and then more
wonder and more talk, and the dominie angry also! At
home I am the best.”
    “Well, then, so it shall be.”
    But Joris was stern to Charlotte, and his anger
added the last bitterness to her grief. No one had said a word of reproach to
her; but, equally, no one had said a word of pity. Even Lysbet was shy and cold, for Joris had made her feel that
one's own daughter may fall below moral par and sympathy. “If either of the men
die,” he had said, “I shall always consider Charlotte guilty of murder; and
even while the matter is uncertain, is it not right to be careful? Are we not
told to avoid even the appearance of evil?” So that, with this charge before
him, Joris felt that countenancing Charlotte in any
way was not keeping it.
    And certainly the poor girl might well fear the disapproval
of the general public, when her own family made her feel her fault so keenly.
The service that morning would have been the pillory to her. She was
unspeakably grateful for the solitude of the house, for space and silence, in
which she could have the relief of unrestrained weeping. About the middle of
the morning, she sighted Guy