A light footstep fell behind her. Turning, she beheld Carice's soft eyes,—eyes which, she thought half-enviously, showed so plainly that they had never looked upward through the smoked glass of doubt, to divest the sun of his glory, the sky of its blue, and call it seeing more clear.
"We have been talking of you," said Carice, with gentle directness.
Diva smiled faintly. "I thought you would have pleasanter topics," she answered, half-absently, half-sadly.
"Where could we have found them?" asked Carice, earnestly. "Oh, Diva, you will never know—we shall never be able to tell you—what we think of you! But, Bergan says this search after the doctor must be stopped at once."
"He is very kind," replied Diva, quietly; "I understand what he would spare me. Tell him to give himself no disquietude on that head. I dare not lift a finger to stay the feet of justice, if I could; I can bear whatever Providence sends. But my dread is not the expiation of the scaffold, but the finding of no space for repentance. My conviction is strong that—my husband will never be taken alive."
The quick tears came into Carice's sympathetic eyes; but Diva only fixed her sad, calm gaze on the shining river, and saw in it, perhaps, the River of Life, "proceeding out of the throne of God." After victory is peace.
XI.
FAITHFUL UNTO DEATH.
Bergan now mended rapidly; a mind and heart at ease are excellent medicines. In a few days it was pronounced safe to remove him to Oakstead. Here he was informed of the strange disappearance of Maumer Rue.
"Her grandson, Brick, was at the cabin two or three times," said Mr. Bergan, "when you were too ill to allow his admittance. He is here now, and very anxious to see you. May he come in?"