Thus the real and the visionary were so mingled in her mind that a true realization of her danger was impossible, and knowing her innocence, a sweet trust in the Divine justice sprang up in her soul, keeping out all fear.
CHAPTER XXXIII.
THE OLD COUPLE ON THEIR SHADOWED HEARTH-STONE.
During the days that had followed Katharine Allen's arrest—days so terrible that their memory could never die wholly out of the neighborhood—the old couple in the farm house beyond the widow Allen's dwelling, bore their full share of the horror and grief which oppressed all who had known and loved the girl.
But both Mr. Thrasher and his wife were bowed beneath a deeper sorrow than mere commiseration for one unfortunate creature—beneath a horror more painful than any thought of her sin.
For a time neither spoke of it. They avoided looking in each other's face—those true hearts that had never had a secret before—lest the fear that haunted their minds should find utterance in their eyes.
One night, as they sat by the kitchen fire, the old lady mechanically knitting, and her husband looking mournfully into the cheerful blaze, her thoughts found an almost unconscious utterance.
"Oh, if I could only be certain—if Nelson was only here to answer for himself."
Mr. Thrasher glanced quickly at her, then back into the fire, while the old lady let her work fall, and sat with her hands clasped in her lap, that mild, womanly face darkened by a deeper shadow than it had ever before worn.
"If I could send for him, I would," replied Mr. Thrasher, with a sternness his voice seldom took in addressing his wife. "I don't want to believe wrong of any one, but if he were here, I'd question him."