Brothers -- Fiction; Love stories; Triangles (Interpersonal relations) -- Fiction
"O God! O God!" The words pierced her with their entreaty; it was a cry
from the very depths. "The mistake was mine. Let me bear the
consequences! But save her--O save her--from further suffering!" A
momentary silence, and then, more desperately still: "O God--if Thou art
anywhere--hear--and help! Let me bear whatever Thou wilt! But spare
her--spare her! She has borne so much!"
A terrible sob choked the gasping utterance. There fell a silence so
tense, so poignant with pain, that the girl upon the threshold trembled
as one physically afraid. Yet she could not turn and flee. She felt as if
it were laid upon her to stand and witness this awful struggle of a soul
in torment. But that it should be Scott--the wise, the confident, the
unafraid--passing alone through this place of desolation, sent the blood
to her heart in a great wave of consternation. If Scott failed--if the
sword of Greatheart were broken--it seemed to her that nothing could be
left in all the world, as if even the coming Dawn must be buried in
darkness.
Was it for Isabel he was praying thus? She supposed it must be, though
she had felt all through this night of waiting that no prayer was needed.
Isabel was so near the mountain-top that surely she was safe--nearer
already to God than any of their prayers could bring her.
And yet Scott was wrestling here as one overwhelmed with evil. Wherefore?
Wherefore? The steady faith of this good friend of hers had never to her
knowledge flickered before. What had happened to shake him thus?
He was praying again, more coherently but in words so low that they were
scarcely audible. She crept a little nearer, and now she could see him,
kneeling at the table, his head sunk upon it, his arms flung wide with
clenched fists that seemed impotently to beat the air.
"I'm praying all wrong," he whispered. "Forgive me, but I'm all in the
dark to-night. Thou knowest, Lord, how awful the dark can be. I'm not
asking for an answer. Only guide our feet! Deliver us from evil--deliver
her--O God--deliver my Dinah--by that love which is of Thee and which
nothing will ever alter! If I may not help her, give me strength--to
stand aside!"
A great shiver went through him; he gripped his hands together suddenly
and passionately.
"O my God," he groaned, "it's the hardest thing on earth--to stand and do
nothing--when I love her so."
Something seemed to give way within him with the words. His shoulders
shook convulsively. He buried his face in his arms.
And in that moment the power that had stayed Dinah upon the threshold
suddenly urged her forward.
Almost before she realized it, she was there at his side, stooping over
him, holding him--holding him fast in a clasp that was free from any
hesitation or fear, a clasp in which all her pulsing womanhood rushed
forth to him, exulting, glorying in its self-betrayal.
"My dear! Oh, my dear!" she said. "Are you praying for me?"
"Dinah!" he said.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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