“I fear so,” replied Viviana; “and his end has been a fearful one.”
“No—no,” said Catesby; “his pulse still beats—but fiercely and feverishly. You had better not remain here longer, Miss Radcliffe. I will watch over him. All will soon be over.”
Aware that she could be of no further use, Viviana cast a look of the deepest commiseration at the sufferer, and retired. The occupant of the cottage, an elderly female, had surrendered all the apartments of her tenement, except one small room, to her guests, and she was therefore undisturbed. The terrible event which had recently occurred, and the harrowing scene she had just witnessed, were too much for Viviana, and her anguish was so intense, that she began to fear her reason was deserting her. She stood still,—gazed fearfully round, as if some secret danger environed her,—clasped her hands to her temples, and found them burning like hot iron,—and, then, alarmed at her own state, knelt down, prayed, and wept. Yes! she wept, for the first time, since her father's destruction, and the relief afforded by those scalding tears was inexpressible.
From this piteous state she was aroused by the tramp of horses at the door of the cottage, and the next moment Father Garnet presented himself.
“How uncertain are human affairs!” he said, after a sorrowful greeting had passed between them. “I little thought, when we parted yesterday, we should meet again so soon, and under such afflicting circumstances.”
“It is the will of Heaven, father,” replied Viviana, “and we must not murmur at its decrees, but bear our chastening as we best may.”
“I am happy to find you in such a comfortable frame of mind, dear daughter. I feared the effect of the shock upon your feelings. But I am glad to find you bear up against it so well.”
“I am surprised at my own firmness, father,” replied Viviana. “But I have been schooled in affliction. I have no tie left to bind me to the world, and shall retire from it, not only without regret, but with eagerness.”
“Say not so, dear daughter,” replied Garnet. “You have, I trust, much happiness in store for you; and when the sharpness of your affliction is worn off, you will view your condition in a more cheering light.”
“Impossible!” she cried, mournfully. “Hope is wholly extinct in my breast. But I will not contest the point. Is not Sir Everard Digby with you?”