"I would not give you false hopes," replied the Lady Elisabeth. "My Lord's estate is forfeit, and no entreaties of yours or mine could avail to restore it."
"Entreaties?" cried Lady Newcastle. "I fear I could not entreat——"
She abruptly checked her sentence, but Elisabeth knew well enough that some hard thing against the Protector had been on her tongue.
"Have patience, my lady, this life is very short and full of sadness. All these great affairs and great pains will soon be past, and others will be in our places while we shall be at rest—up there"—she pointed to the sky—"above it all, God grant!"
"You speak as if you too were unfortunate!" said the Marchioness wonderingly. "Surely, Mrs. Claypole, you do not need philosophy to sweeten your lot."
"I am dying," answered Elisabeth Claypole. "And I am young and have much on this earth that I love, also I suffer very greatly—so much that I wish I could die quicker. Therefore," she added sweetly, "you see that I have not found the world wholly pleasant, and why I long for these mansions God hath prepared for us above."
My lady's warm heart was greatly moved by this touching confession.
"Forgive me, I did not know," she answered; "but I dare hope you are mistaken——"
"Those who love me deceive themselves, but I know," smiled Elisabeth. "I am not afraid to die—but sometimes, madam, I am a coward before the pain, the great pain,"—then, hastily turning the subject from herself, she added,—"I mix not at all in business, I know my father doeth God's work—yet I am most grieved for you and such as you, for all the blood shed, for all the misery. Ah me!—our day is now, we seem very glorious, but what doth it all hang on? My father's life—no more. And it may be that we too shall end and come to nothing and your turn come again. I know not. Sometimes life seems very far away from me, as if I surveyed it from a distance, and saw it all blurred and vague."