“There, sir, you’ve had the whole of it now, as well as I could give it you; and I’m sure you’ll deal gently with the poor creature, like the good Master who wouldn’t break the bruised reed.”
For a little while no one spoke. Mr Maltby was deeply touched, and Jane, whose face had been for some time past buried in her hands, could not for a while restrain her sobbing. At last she looked up and said: “Yes, dear Mr Maltby, Thomas has told you exactly how it all was, as he has often heard it from me. They tell me not to fret. Ah! But it’s good advice easier given than followed. I don’t want to murmur; I know it’s the Lord’s will; but the trouble’s gnawing and gnawing my life away. Disgraced, dismissed as a thief and a liar, without a character, a burden instead of a help to those who love me—oh, it is hard, very hard to bear! But those blessed words of the psalm you read, oh, how they have comforted me! And in that Word of God I know I shall find peace and strength. Ah, that reminds me Thomas has not mentioned to you another thing that added weight to my burden. I had, when I was living at the Hall, a little Bible of my dear mother’s, which I used to read every day. Only a very short time before the day when the bracelet was shown me, that Bible was taken out of my box; and I’ve never seen it since. I asked all the other servants about it, but every one declared they had neither touched nor seen it. It could not have been taken for its value, for it was very old, and worn-looking, and shabby, and the paper and print were very poor; but I loved it because it was my dear mother’s, and had been given to her as a reward when she was a very little girl. It had her maiden name and the year of our Lord in it—‘Mary Williams. June 10, 1793.’ Oh! It was such a precious book to me, for I had drawn a line in red-ink under all my favourite texts, and I could find anything I wanted in it in a moment! I can’t help fearing that John Hollands or Georgina took it away just to spite me.”
“Poor Jane!” said the vicar gently and lovingly “your story is a sad one indeed. Truly the chastening must for the present be not joyous, but grievous; and yet it comes from the hand of a Father who loves you, who will, I doubt not, cause it in due time to bring forth the peaceable fruit of righteousness.”
“And you do, then, dear sir,” cried Jane, with tearful earnestness, “believe, after what you have heard, that I am really innocent of the charge which has been made against me?”
“Believe it, Jane!” exclaimed Mr Maltby; “yes, indeed! I could not doubt your innocence for a moment; and remember, the Lord himself knows it, and will make it before long as clear as the noonday.”
“Oh, thank you, dear sir, a thousand times for those cheering words! I am so glad now that all has been told you; I feel my heart lighter already. Yes, I will trust that light will come in his time.”
“It will,” replied the vicar, “and before long too. I feel firmly persuaded, I can hardly tell you why, that it will not be so very long before this dark cloud shall pass away.”
“May the Lord grant it!” said Thomas Bradly; and added, “You understand now, sir, exactly how matters lie; and we shall both feel the happier that you know all, for we are sure that we shall always have your sympathy and prayers, and if anything should turn up we shall know where to go for advice; and in the meantime, we must wait and be patient. I can’t help feeling with you that, somehow or other, poor Jane’s getting near the end of the wood, and will come out into the sunshine afore so very long.”