“And yet, daughter, since you press me, I must explain that he is under a cloud which would make thy offering vain at present.”
“There is no need, kind commander, to make evasive explanations. I have been forewarned of my father’s troubles of mind.”
“But he is violent at times, and we are compelled to keep him secluded in the asylum of our brotherhood.”
“Good Master, that but the more increases my ardor to hasten a meeting with him. I want to try the cure of love upon him; I’ve all faith in its efficacy. When may I go?”
The foregoing was a sample of Miriamne’s words each day. Her appeals touched all hearts and finally over-persuaded the medical attendants, who, in fact, began to fear lest refusal would unsettle the maiden’s mind. She was all vehemence and urgency on this subject.
The meeting was a sorrowful and brief one.
She was not prepared for such a spectacle as her father presented, and her cry, “Take me to him,” was changed to one more vehement now:
“Take me away!”
Terror supplemented her utter disappointment. To both feelings there was added a sense of humiliation. She imagined her return to Bozrah, empty-handed; the possible gibes of her mother and others. Her great faith seemed fruitless and her enthusiasm ebbed. Then she began to question within herself whether or not, after all, the new faith she had embraced was not a splendid illusion! She was in “Doubting Castle,” with “Giant Despair,” and the mighty, impelling question, “What wilt Thou have me to do?” little by little lost its grip on her will. It had seemed to her the voice of God; now it seemed little more than the echo of words heard in a dream. She was moved now by a desire to get away from something, but she could not define the thing. Certainly she desired to escape her disappointment, but not knowing how, she sought to get away from its scene. If she could have run away from herself she would have been glad to have done so. She fled from the asylum, as soon as night came to hide her flight. She had not strength to go far, and the Asylum park of many acres of lawns and groves, afforded her solitude; that that she now chiefly desired. The night the desolate girl thus went forth was a lovely one; a reflection of that other night of sorrow when she fled from the old stone-house home to the chapel of Adolphus at Bozrah. And the memory of that night returned to the girl with some consoling. Again she looked up to the firmament and was calmed by the eternal rest that seemed on all above, and again she yearned to go up further to the only seeming haven of righteousness and peace.
Then came the reaction; the prolonged tension had done its work, and the young woman dropped down on the earth. How long she lay in her blank dream she knew not. If during its continuance she in part recovered consciousness, she had no desire nor strength to rise or throw off her weakness.