Part 33 (1/2)
”'Come,' she said, 'surely you will not refuse me, Mr. Ferrers,' and her smile was very winning; and Raby, though reluctant, laid the little spray of lilies in her hand. He could hardly have done otherwise, but I was too young to know that.
”'There, she has gone at last, the pretty chatterbox,' he exclaimed, with a yawn of real or pretended weariness as the door closed upon our visitors. 'Crystal, my child, come here: I have not heard your voice for the last hour. Tell me what you think of Miss Vyvie; is she not a lively young lady?'
”I made him no answer. I was past it.
”Oh, if I had only gone silently out of the room to recover myself. If he had not spoken to me just then. He started when he saw my face.
”'Crystal, my dear child, what is the matter?' and then--then it burst forth. Oh, my G.o.d, I must have been beside myself. Surely some demon must have entered into my childish heart before I could have poured forth that torrent of pa.s.sionate invective and reproach.
”They had never witnessed such a scene. Margaret, sweet soul, cried and trembled as she heard me, and Uncle Rolf grew quite pale.
”'That child,' he cried, 'Edmund's child!' and his voice was full of horror; but Raby rose slowly from his couch, and without a word led me from the room.
”I do not know whether I yielded to that firm touch, or whether his strength compelled me; but, still silent, he took me up to my room and left me there.
”Oh, the awfulness of that mute reproach, the sternness of that pale face; it recalled me to myself sooner than any word would have done.
Almost before the door closed my pa.s.sion had spent itself, and then the agony of shame and despair that followed! I had forfeited his good opinion forever. He would never love me again! If I could die--oh, impious prayer that I prayed--if I could only die! But I would never see his face again. I would go where they could never find me, where I would never grieve them more.
”Fern, it was a strange feature that marked those pa.s.sionate fits of mine; but I never yielded to them afterward without the same desire seizing me to go away and see them no more; and but for the watchful care that surrounded me at those times I should often have escaped.
”It came upon me now, this horror of restraint, and overmastered me.
To my fancy I seemed to feel the walls falling in upon me in judgment for my sin. I was suffocated, and yet restless. Oh, to be away, I thought, to be away from those reproachful faces; and I rushed downstairs, through the house and down the yew-tree walk; but the garden-door into the lane was locked, and at that slight obstacle I s.h.i.+vered and lay down on the gra.s.s and crushed my face against the ground, and felt like some youthful Cain, branded with unextinguishable shame.
”I had lost Raby's love. I had forfeited his respect. There lay the unbearable sting. Never should I forget that pale, stern face and the unspoken reproach in those dark eyes.
”'Oh, I can not bear it,' I cried; 'I can not, can not, bear it.'
”'My child,' said Raby's grave voice close to me, 'if you are sorry, and your grief tells me you are, you must ask pardon of our Father in heaven.”
”'Then--may a merciful G.o.d forgive me for my blasphemy--I cried, 'not His, but yours, Raby. I can not live without your love;' and then I was almost choked with my sobs.
”'Crystal,' he said, with a heavy sigh, 'can this be my child whom I have taught and guided, my child for whom I have prayed every night;'
and, touched by the gentleness of his tone, I crept a little nearer and clasped his feet.
”'I can never be forgiven,' I sobbed. 'What has heaven to do with such a sinner as I?'
”'Ah, little one,' he answered, 'have not I forgiven thee, and I was stretched on no cross for thy sake;' and then, kneeling down by my side, he raised my wet face from the gra.s.s and laid it gently on his arm and kissed it, and then I knew I was forgiven.
”Never, never shall I forget how he talked to me--and yet he was ill--as a brother and a priest, too! How he helped me to bear the terror of the sin and the shame of my repentance; how, without removing one iota of its guilt or one dread of its probable consequences, he led me to the one consolation. 'Thy sins, even thine, shall be forgiven thee,' and then he took me back into the house, cast down indeed and humbled, but no longer despairing, and led me to Uncle Rolf.
”'Father,' he said, still holding my hand, perhaps because he felt how I trembled, 'father, Crystal has come to ask your pardon and Margaret's also for the pain she has caused you both, and to say that, with G.o.d's help, she will never offend so again.'
”Never! oh, Raby, never! when the inborn enemy was strong as death and cruel as the grave. Oh, my good angel, Raby, what have the years written, against me--against me--your unhappy child?”
CHAPTER XXIV.
A GRAVE DECISION.