Ralph and Rotha walked side by side to Shoulthwaite Moss. It was
useless for the girl to return to Fornside, Ralph had said. Her father
would not be there, and the desolate house was no place for her on a
night like this. She must spend the night under his mother's charge.
They had exchanged but few words on setting out. The tragedy of her
father's life was settling on the girl's heart with a nameless misery.
It is the first instinct of the child's nature to look up to the
parent as its refuge, its tower of strength. That bulwark may be
shattered before the world, and yet to the child's intuitive feeling
it may remain the same. Proudly, steadfastly the child heart continues
to look up to the wreck that is no wreck in the eyes of its love. Ah!
how well it is if the undeceiving never comes! But when all that
seemed strong, when all that seemed true, becomes to the unveiled
vision weak and false, what word is there that can represent the
sadness of the revealment?
"Do you think, Ralph, that I could bear a terrible answer if I were to
ask you a terrible question?"
Rotha broke the silence between them with these words.
Pages:
67
68
69
70
71
72
73
74
75
76
77
78
79
80
81
82
83
84
85
86
87
88
89
90
91