England -- Fiction; Strikes and lockouts -- Fiction
'The best has happened,' responded Dr. Bevary. 'Miss Gwinn, you have
requested me more than once to bring you here without preparation should
the time arrive--for that you could bear certainty, but not suspense.
Will you see her?'
Her face had grown white and rigid as marble. Unable to speak, she
pointed forward with her hand. Dr. Bevary drew it within his own to
support her. In a clean, cool chamber, on a pallet bed, lay a dead
woman. Dr. Kerr gently drew back the snow-white sheet, with which the
face was covered. A pale, placid face, with a little band of light hair
folded underneath the cap. She--Miss Gwinn--did not stir: she gave way
to neither emotion nor violence; but her bloodless lips were strained
back from her teeth, and her face was as white as that of the dead.
'God's ways are not as our ways,' whispered Dr. Bevary. 'You have been
acting for revenge: He has sent peace. Whatsoever He does is for the
best.'
She made no reply: she remained still and rigid. Dr. Bevary stroked the
left hand of the dead, lying in its utter stillness--stroked, as if
unconsciously, the wedding-ring on the third finger. He had been led to
believe that it was placed on that finger, years and years ago, by his
brother-in-law, James Lewis Hunter. And had been led to believe a lie!
And she who had invented the lie, who had wrought the delusion, who had
embittered Mr. Hunter's life with the same dread belief, stood there at
the doctor's side, looking at the dead.
It is a solemn thing to persist though but tacitly in the acting of a
vile falsehood, in the mysterious presence of death. Even Miss Gwinn
was not strong-minded enough for that. As Dr. Bevary turned to her with
a remark upon the past, she burst forth into a cry, and gave utterance
to words that fell upon the physician's ear like a healing balm,
soothing and binding up a long-open wound.
CHAPTER X.
THE YEARS GONE BY.
Those readers will be disappointed who look for any very romantic
_dénoûment_ of 'A Life's Secret.' The story is a short and sad one.
Suggesting the wretchedness and evil that may result when truth is
deviated from; the lengths to which a blind, unholy desire for revenge
will carry an ill-regulated spirit; and showing how, in the moral
government of the world, sin casts its baleful consequences upon the
innocent as well as the guilty.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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