“What is it? Who is hurt?” were her first words. “Somebody cried out. The voice sounded like Martha’s.”
Martha was the name of one of the girls.
“We don’t know,” replied Clarke. “We are going to see.”
She made as if to follow us.
“Don’t,” I prayed, beseeching her with look and hand. “Let us find out first whether it is anything but a woman’s hysterical outcry.”
She paused for a moment then pressed hastily on.
“I must see for myself,” she declared; and I forebore to urge her further. Nor did I offer her my arm. For my heart was very sore. She had not looked my way once, no, not even when I spoke.
So she too doubted me. Oh, God! my lot was indeed a hard one.
XX
The scene which met our view as we halted in one of the arches overlooking the court was one for which we sought in vain for full explanation.