“Don't go in, don't go in; come downstairs, and I will tell you all about it.”
He did not finish the question—indeed he had scarcely uttered the words, but Mrs. Holl guessed them by the movement of his lips.
“No, she's not dead; she's not, indeed. Please, go down——”
But Stephen Walker pushed past her, and stood in the empty room. A low cry broke from him, then his eye caught the letter on the table; it was addressed to himself. He could not stand to read it; he sank down in a chair. He opened the letter with trembling hands, but the trembling ceased, and his figure seemed to stiffen into stone as he read on—
“Father, father, what can I say to you—how can I write it? He has married another; I saw it in the paper this evening; yet he promised, promised over and over again to marry me. Only this morning I had a letter from him saying he would marry me in three weeks, and when he was writing it he must have been married already. I leave his letter that you may see that I spoke truly when I said he promised to marry me, and oh, father, I believed him so; I thought him true and honourable, and oh, father, forgive me, forgive me, for I have disgraced you. I cannot live, father, I cannot live with this shame. When you receive this, Carry and her sins will be over. Oh, father, forgive me. I know you will, and then God will forgive, too. I have suffered so much, surely He will have pity on me. Father, do not think of me as I have been for the last month. Try and think that I died young; think of me as the little Carry who loved you so, so much, and never remember the miserable girl who has brought shame upon herself and you.”
Mrs. Holl was frightened at the ghastly pallor and the set rigid expression which grew upon the old man's face as he read on. There he sat still and immovable. When he had finished, his lips were livid, and his eyes fixed.
“Don't take on so, now don't, there's a good creature,” Mrs. Holl said, soothingly; “she will come back again safe enough; don't take on so.”
But Mrs. Holl's words were addressed to deaf ears, and seeing that he paid no attention to her, she came close to him and touched him. Then a sharp contraction passed over his face, and in another moment he lay on the ground in a violent fit. Mrs. Holl was a strong woman, and accustomed to hard work, but it needed all her strength to hold the old man during the first paroxysm of the attack. She was unwilling to call for assistance, as she wished to hide what had happened from the neighbours until, at any rate, she knew what the father might determine upon doing. When she saw that the paroxysm was over, the kind hearted woman, wishing to spare him the sight of his daughter's empty room, took the still insensible man up in her strong arms and carried him down to the parlour. Presently he opened his eyes, then putting his hand over his face, remained immovable.