Note 1. Rot. Pat., 22 Edward the First.
Note 2. The language of this sentence is remarkable:—“Jeo ou nul autre en moun noun purchace absolucion ou de Apostoile ou de autre souerein.” (Rot. Pat., 22 Edward the First.)
Chapter Eleven.
The Sun breaks out.
“If from Thine ordeal’s heated bars,
Our feet are seamed with crimson scars,
Thy will be done!”—Whittier.
Heliet’s penetration had not deceived her. The mean, narrow, withered article which Vivian Barkeworth called his soul, was unable to pardon Clarice for having shown herself morally so much his superior. That his wife should be better than himself was in his eyes an inversion of the proper order of things. And as of course it was impossible that he should be to blame, why, it must be her fault Clarice found herself most cruelly snubbed for days after her interference in behalf of her graceless husband. Not in public; for except in the one instance of this examination, where his sense of shame and guilt had overcome him for a moment, Vivian’s company manners were faultless, and a surface observer would have pronounced him a model husband. Poor Clarice had learned by experience that any restraint which Vivian put upon himself when inwardly vexed, was sure to rebound on her devoted head in the form of after suffering in private.
To Clarice herself the reaction came soon and severely. On the evening before Rosie’s funeral, Heliet found her seated by the little bier in the hall, gazing dreamily on the face of her lost darling, with dry eyes and strained expression. She sat down beside her. Clarice took no notice. Heliet scarcely knew how to deal with her. If something could be said which would set the tears flowing it might save her great suffering; yet to say the wrong thing might do more harm than good. The supper-bell rang before she had made up her mind. As they rose Clarice slipped her hand into Heliet’s arm, and, to the surprise of the latter, thanked her.