Magdalen shuddered and hid her face in her hands.
"Oh that such things should be! And in a Christian land, and within the very Church of Christ itself!"
"We will trust it is not true," spoke Dr. Langton gravely, "or that more Christian and more merciful counsel may prevail. But in all truth I know full well that, short of a miracle, Clarke will only come here to die. Perhaps the best that we can wish for him now is a peaceful and painless passing away in the midst of his friends, with no more fears of prison or martyrdom before his eyes; for in sooth I think his soul has soared into a region where all fear and anxiety are left behind."
Magdalen's eyes were full of tears. She had been from the first deeply attracted both by the words and by the personality of John Clarke, and sometimes she had had intimate talks with him on spiritual matters, which had made an indelible impression upon her heart.
She now busied herself diligently in making ready for his reception that pleasant sunny chamber which her father had selected. The great canopied beds of the day were too heavy and ponderous to be easily moved; but smaller couches and abundant bedding were quickly collected, and the room began to glow with the masses of flowers that Freda brought in from the garden and woodland beyond. The place was fragrant with the breath of cowslip and primrose, whilst, as the light faded from the west, the dancing flames of the log fire on the hearth gave a cheery air of welcome.
The sisters stood clasping hands as their friend was brought in by the bearers, and tenderly laid upon one of the two soft couches made ready--one beside the window, and one in a warmer situation near to the hearth.
It was upon this one that he was laid first, and Magdalen caught her breath in a little sob as she gazed upon his face--it was so thin and sunken, so absolutely colourless. The eyes were closed, and though there was an expression of deep peace and happiness upon the face, it looked to her more like the face of one who has triumphed in death than of one who is living and breathing yet.
Dalaber flung himself upon his knees beside the couch with a lamentable cry upon his lips.
"My master! my master! my friend!" he cried, and at the sound of these words and the familiar voice the long lashes quivered and slowly lifted themselves, and they saw the dim, sweet smile steal over the wan face.
"Is that Anthony? I cannot see. God bless thee, my son! He is giving me all I could ask or wish."