“It is a considerable sum to withdraw at once, but as it is not on deposit you can have it.”
“I thought it only fair to give you a few hours’ notice. I shall call for it to-morrow about ten o’clock.”
“Do you wish to take it in a cheque?”
“I think not, I should prefer notes.” Ogilvie added a few more words, and then went back to his own house.
At last everything was in train. He uttered a sigh of relief. The house looked gloomy and dismantled, but for that very reason it suited his feelings. Some of the furniture had been removed to Silverbel, and the place was dusty. His study in particular looked forbidding, some ashes from the last fire ever made there still remained in the grate. He wondered if anyone had ever entered the study since he last sat there and struggled with temptation and yielded to it.
He went up to his own room, which had been hastily prepared for him, and looked around him in a forlorn way. He then quickly mounted another flight of stairs, and found himself at last in the room where his little daughter used to sleep. The moment he entered this room he was conscious of a sensation of comfort. The worldliness of all the rest of the house fell away in this sweet, simply furnished chamber. He sat down near the little empty bed, pressed his hand over his eyes, and gave himself up to thought.
Nobody knew how long he sat there. The caretaker and his wife took no notice. They were busy down in the kitchen. It mattered nothing at all to them whether Ogilvie were in the house or not. He breathed a conscious sigh of relief. He was glad to be alone, and the spirit of his little daughter seemed close to him. He had something hard to go through, and terrible agony would be his as he accomplished his task. He knew that he should have to walk through fire, and the fire would not be brief nor quickly over. Step by step his wounded feet must tread. By no other road was there redemption. He did not shirk the inevitable. On the contrary, his mind was made up.
“By no other road can I clasp her hand in the Eternity which lies beyond this present life,” he thought. “I deserve the pain and the shame, I deserve all. There are times when a man comes face to face with God. It is fearful when his God is angry with him. My God is angry—the pains of hell take hold of me.”
He walked to the window and looked out. It is doubtful if he saw much. Suddenly beside the little empty bed he fell on his knees, buried his face in his hands and a sob rose to his throat.