“All is over, my friend,” she said. And again drooping her head, she burst into tears.
“Lady, hold thee up,” said Bernard, in a gentle tone, “and look before thee hopefully! Was not Lazarus dead yet four days, and locked in his grave, ere our sweet Lord came to help him?”
“Alack! alack!” sobbed Evaline.
“Sweet mistress, be of good cheer!” cried Martha, in a broken voice.
“Sir Walter Raleigh, who, under Heaven, was my tower of hope, is disgraced,” said Evaline. “What can we look for now?”
There was a pause.
“I’faith, I grieve as much for good Sir Walter, as for ourselves,” observed Bernard, at length. “But stand to ’t bravely, lady. Thy cause is not yet hopeless.”
“No!” answered Evaline, raising her brimming eyes to heaven: “we have still a Friend above!”
As she pronounced these words, the tone of her voice, always musical, was so soft, that it seemed to embody the soothing influence of the sentiment, and in its full, deep cadences, to hold out an assurance of support to the speaker’s self. Nor was it without a very decided effect on the feelings of Bernard. His emotion was apparent on his face, which, besides turning very pale, looked more than usually melancholy. His eyes, in particular, reflected this expression very distinctly, and, by their quick but subdued light, afforded a clue to the fierce struggle that was passing within.
“Art advised o’ that?” he said, respectfully taking up Evaline’s hand. “Go to, then; I tell thee, thy father shall be set free!”