"The case was called pro formâ this morning, but Mr. Lowther's partner, his brother, easily procured a delay. George was too ill to appear, but he sent me word that there was nothing seriously wrong."
"Can no one see him?" asked Clare imploringly. "Oh, Mr. Felton, can no one go to him? Can no one give him any comfort--help him to bear it? Are they so cruel as that, are they so cruel?"
"Hush, dear, it is not cruel; it is right. No one can see him for the present but Mr. Lowther--Mr. James Lowther, who is with him now, I dare say, who will be here this afternoon."
"How can you bear it? how are you ever to bear it?" she said.
"My dear, I must bear it; and I have time before me in which to suffer: this is the time for action. You must help me, Clare, my dear, brave girl. I sent for you for this; I sent for you, at his desire, my child. His last words were, 'My mother, my mother, she is coming home to-morrow.' I told him to be satisfied she should be kept from the knowledge of all this." He shuddered from head to foot. "Clare, are you strong enough to redeem my promise? Can you hide all that has happened from her? Can you be with her, watching her, keeping a calm face before her? My dear, have you strength for this?"
She lifted her golden head, and looked at him with her innocent fearless eyes.
"I have strength to do anything that he--that George desires, and you think is right."
"Then that is your share of our dreadful task, my dear. God knows it is no light or easy share."
Clare's tears streamed forth again. She nestled closer to him, and whispered:
"Is there no--no hope?"