"What is wrong?" he asked. "Is Jean dead?"
"Worse than dead," was the low reply. "Oh, if she were only dead! God help my Jean, my darling Jean!"
Joe's face was drawn and haggard. His eyes were red as if they had been rubbed hard and long. His body trembled so violently that Douglas feared that he might collapse where he stood.
"Won't you sit down?" he asked. "You must be tired. Rest awhile."
"Sit down! Rest!" Joe slowly repeated, as if he did not fully comprehend the words. "How dare I think of rest with my poor child's troubles on my mind?"
He ceased and let his eyes roam across the fields toward the Dempster home. Then he straightened himself up and turning to his companion clutched him fiercely by the arm. His lips moved, though no word was uttered. But his eyes and face said all that was necessary. A heartbroken father was being torn by a wild passion, and what anger is more terrible than that caused by an injury to an offspring, whether of man or beast? Douglas made no effort to soothe the grief-stricken man. He realised that the storm must beat itself out, and that words of comfort or sympathy would be empty sounds falling on unheeding ears. He knew that silence is never more golden than in the presence of overmastering grief.
At first he thought that Joe's passion was that of anger alone for the one who had outraged his daughter. But presently, he intuitively divined that the struggle was deeper than that. He felt that it was a conflict between right and wrong; the desire of the savage beast thirsting for revenge, contending with the Christ-like spirit of forgiveness. Now he longed to speak, to utter some word that would decide the battle for the right. But never did he feel so helpless. He recalled several appropriate texts of Scripture, but he did not quote them. Why he did not do so he could not tell. He realised the importance of the moment, and felt like a coward for his helplessness. If the beast nature should win, no end of harm might be done. What should he do?
Presently an idea flashed into his mind. Why had he not thought of it before? he asked himself.
Taking Joe by the arm, he led him from the road to a large maple tree standing near the edge of the field.
"Sit down under the shade," he ordered, "and wait until I come back."