A Forgotten Hero Part 18

At least, so it seems to me. As the years go on it grows heavier, and it is crushing him almost into the dust now."

"Whom dost thou mean, Heliet?"

"The Lord Earl, our master."

"I can see he is sorely tried; but I never quite understand what his trouble is."

"The sorrow of being actively hated by the only one whom he loves. The prospect of being left to die, in wifeless and childless loneliness-- that terrible loneliness of soul which is so much worse to bear than any mere physical solitude. G.o.d, for some wise reason, has shut him up to Himself. He has deprived him of all human relationship and human love; has said to him, 'Lean on Me, and walk loose from all other ties.' A wedded man in the eyes of the world, G.o.d has called him in reality to be an anchorite of the Order of Providence, to follow the Lamb whithersoever He goeth. And unless mine eyes see very wrongly into the future--as would G.o.d they did!--the Master is about to lead this dear servant into the Gethsemane of His pa.s.sion, that he may be fashioned like Him in all things. Ah, Clarice, that takes close cutting!"

"Heliet, what dost thou mean? Canst thou guess what the Lady is about to do?"

"I think she is going to leave him."

"Alone?--for ever?"

"For earth," said Heliet, softly. "G.o.d be thanked, that is not for ever."

"What an intensely cruel woman she is!" cried Clarice, indignantly.

"Because, I believe, she is a most miserable one."

"Canst thou feel any pity for _her_?"

"It is not so easy as for him. Yet I suspect she needs it even more than he does. Christ have mercy on them both!"

"I cannot comprehend it," said Clarice.

"I will tell thee one thing," answered Heliet. "I would rather change with thee than with Sir Edmund the Earl; and a hundred times rather with thee than with the Lady Margaret. It is hard to suffer; but it is worse to be the occasion of suffering. Let me die a thousand times over with Saint Stephen, before I keep the clothes of the persecutors with Saul."

Clarice stooped and lifted the child from the cradle.

"It is growing late," she said. "I suppose we ought not to be up longer. Good-night, sweetheart, and many thanks for thy counsel. It is all true, I know; yet--"

"In twenty years, may be--or at the longest, when thou hast seen His Face in righteousness--dear Clarice, thou wilt know it, and want to add no _yet_."

The soft tap of Heliet's crutches had died away, but Clarice stood still with the child in her arms.

"It must be _yet_ now, however," she said, half aloud. "Do Thy will with me--cut me and perfect me; but, O G.o.d, leave me, leave me Rosie!"

CHAPTER NINE.

OVERWHELMED.

"I am a useless and an evil man,-- G.o.d planned my life, and let men spoil His plan."

_Isabella Fyvie Mayo_.

Oakham was left behind; and to the surprise of the party--except the Countess, her Prime Minister, Father Miles, and her Foreign Secretary, Felicia--they found themselves lodged in Rochester Castle. Here the Countess shut herself up, and communicated with the outward world through her Cabinet only. All orders were brought to the ladies by Felicia, and were pa.s.sed to Vivian by Father Miles. The latter was closeted with his lady for long periods, and rolls of writing appeared to be the result of these conferences.

The winter moved on with leaden feet, according to the ideas of the household, and of Ada more particularly.

"This sort of life is really something dreadful!" said that young lady.

"If the frost would only break up, it would make something fresh to look at. There is _nothing_ to be done!"

"Poor Ada!" responded Olympias, laughing. "Do get some needlework."

"I am tired of needlework," answered Ada. "I am tired of everything!"

Felicia came in as the words were spoken.

"I have permission to tell you something," she said, with a light in her black eyes which Clarice felt sure meant mischief. "The Lady has appealed to the holy Father for a divorce from the Lord Earl."

"Will she get it?" asked Olympias.

"No doubt of it," replied Felicia dogmatically.

"And if so, what will she do then?" asked Ada.

"Her pious intention," said Felicia, the black eyes dancing, "is to become a holy Sister of the Order of the blessed Saint Dominic."

"Then what is to become of the Lord Earl?" queried Olympias. "I suppose he can marry somebody else. I hope he will."

"That is no concern of the Lady's," said Felicia, in a tone of pious severity. "The religious do not trouble their holy repose about externs, except to offer prayers for their salvation."

"Why, then, we shall all be turned out!" blankly cried Ada. "What is to become of us all?"

"What will become of me is already settled," replied Felicia demurely.

"I am about to make profession in the same convent with my mistress."

"Thank the saints!" reached Clarice's ears in a whisper from Olympias, and was deliberately echoed in the heart of the former.

"But that will never do for me!" exclaimed Ada. "I am sure I have no vocation. What am I to do?"

"The Lady proposes, in her goodness," said the Countess's mouthpiece, "to get thee an appointment in the household of one of the Ladies the King's daughters."

"_Ha, jolife_!" said Ada, and ceased her interjections.

"For you, Dames," continued Felicia, turning to Clarice and Olympias, "she says that, being wedded, you are already provided for, and need no thought on her part."

"Oh, then, I may go back to Oakham," answered Olympias in a satisfied tone. "That is what I want."

Clarice wondered sorrowfully what her lot would be--whether she might return to Oakham. She felt more at home there than anywhere else. The question was whether, Clarice being now at large, Vivian would continue in the Earl's service; and even if he did, they might perhaps no longer live in the Castle. Clarice took this new trouble where she carried them all; but the Earl's sorrow was more in her mind than her own. She was learning to cultivate:--

"A heart at leisure from itself, To soothe and sympathise."

She found that Vivian had already heard the news from Father Miles, and she timidly ventured to ask him what he intended to do.