The Trial; Or, More Links of the Daisy ChainYonge, Charlotte M. (Charlotte Mary)
General
The Trial; Or, More Links of the Daisy Chain
Yonge, Charlotte M. (Charlotte Mary)
Domestic fiction; England -- Fiction; English fiction -- 19th century; Trials (Murder) -- Fiction
And in tears himself, the Doctor turned his back, and went as far away
as the cell would permit, turning towards the books that lay on a
narrow ledge that served for a table. 'How long, O Lord, how long?'
were the words that caught his eye in the open Psalms; and, startled as
if at unauthorized prying, he looked up at the dull screened and spiked
window above his head, till he knew by the sounds that the worst of the
uncontrollable passion had spent itself, and then he came back with the
towel dipped in water, and cooled the flushed heated face as a sister
might have done.
'Oh--thank you--I am ashamed,' gasped the still sobbing boy.
'Ashamed! No; I like you the better for it,' said the Doctor,
earnestly. 'There is no need that we should not grieve together in
this great affliction, and say out all that is in our hearts.'
'All!' exclaimed Leonard. 'No--no words can say that! Oh! was it for
such as this that my poor mother made so much of me--and I got through
the fever--and I hoped--and I strove--Why--why should I be cut off--for
a disgrace and a misery to all! and again came the heart-broken sobs,
though less violently.
'Not to those who look within, and honour you, Leonard.'
'Within! Why, how bad I have been, since _this_ is the reckoning! I
deserve it, I know--but--' and his voice again sank in tears.
'Ethel says that your so feeling comforts her the most; to know that
you have not the terrible struggle of faith disturbed by injustice.'
'If--I have not,' said Leonard, 'it is her doing. In those happy days
when we read Marmion, and could not believe that God would not always
show the right, she showed me how we only see bits and scraps of His
Justice here, and it works round in the end! Nay, if I had not done
that thing to Henry, I should not be here now! It is right! It is
right!' he exclaimed between the heaving sobs that still recurred. 'I
do try to keep before me what she said about Job--when it comes burning
before me, why should that man be at large, and I here? or when I think
how his serpent-eye fell under mine when I tried that one word about
the receipt, that would save my life. Oh! that receipt!'
'Better to be here than in his place, after all!'
'I'd rather be a street-sweeper!' bitterly began Leonard.--'Oh, Dr.
May, do let me have that!' he cried, suddenly changing his tone, and
holding out his hand, as he perceived in the Doctor's button-hole a
dove-pink, presented at a cottage door by a grateful patient. For a
space he was entirely occupied with gazing into its crimson depths,
inhaling the fragrance, and caressingly spreading the cool damask
petals against his hot cheeks and eyelids. 'It is so long since I saw
anything but walls!' he said.
'Three weeks,' sadly replied the Doctor.
'There was a gleam of sunshine when I got out of the van yesterday. I
never knew before what sunshine was. I hope it will be a sunny day
when I go out for the last time!'
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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