“I fear,” said Mr. Clark, looking meekly in my face, “God has taken away my strength—I cannot follow them.”
He arose to his feet, but staggered feebly and fell back again, helpless as a child.
“I will find her. Get well and wait patiently, father, I will not rest till Cora is at home again.”
“God bless you my child!”
He kissed me on the forehead, and with this holy seal upon my brow, I went forth from among my father’s people an outcast, an Ishmael among women, but strong to act and to endure.
CHAPTER XLVII.
MY LOST FRIEND AND MY LOST HOME.
I had made all my preparations, packed up a few clothes, such as I could carry upon the horn of my saddle, and carefully sealed up the bronze coffer, which was half full of gold. Turner had been absent most of the day, and Maria, luckily, was at the village, for some household purpose. All this was fortunate. Knowing that a few hours would separate us, perhaps forever, I could not have sustained my part in their presence.
When they came home my eyes were red with weeping, and I sat down helplessly between them, so sick at heart that it seemed to me like death. They had heard of Cora’s elopement, and did not wonder at my grief.
We parted for the night about ten. Oh, how I yearned to throw myself once more into those kind arms and ask a last blessing! But it could not be. A suspicion that I was about to leave them would have defeated my plans. I knew well that they would go forth into the highway homeless beggars rather than see me so depart.
With calm sadness, though my heart swelled painfully in my bosom, I went to my room. Oh, that dull, mournful hour of solitude while I waited for those two friends, all I had on earth, to sleep, that I might escape like a thief from beneath their roof. I shall never forget that hour. A life-time of dreary pain was crowded into it. Remember I was very young, and could only recall as a dream the time when that park had not been my home.