“Is it ever right to do wrong?” she said suddenly.
“Why, no!—how could it be?” answered David, looking up.
“You put me deeper in the slough, every word you say. I will go no further to-day.”
And she turned and walked away.
“Christie,” said David to his wife that evening, “thou and I must pray for our mistress.”
“Why, what’s the matter with her?”
“I don’t know. She’s in some trouble; and I think it is not a little trouble. Unless I mistake, it is trouble of a weary, wearing sort, that she goes round and round in, and can’t see the way out.”
“But what are we to ask for, if we know nothing?”
“Dear heart! ask the Lord to put it right. He knows the way out; He does not want us to tell Him.”
A fortnight elapsed before any further conversation took place. At the end of that time Ash Wednesday came, and David and Christian went to church as usual. The service was half over, when, to their unspeakable astonishment, they perceived Countess standing at the western door, watching every item of the ceremonies, with an expression on her face which was half eager, half displeased, but wholly disturbed and wearied. She seemed desirous to avoid being seen, and slipped out the instant the mass was over.