"But is there no way of preventing him from taking Clara away from the
house to-morrow morning."
"No good way. No, madam, it is best that all things should be done
decently and in order. I advise you, as I shall also advise my young
friends, Traverse and Clara, not to injure their own cause by unwise
impatience or opposition. We should go before the Orphans' Court with
the very best aspect."
"Come, then, and talk to Clara. She has the most painful antipathy to
the man who claims the custody of her person, as well as the most
distressing reluctance to leaving her dear home and friends; and all
this, in addition to her recent heavy affliction, almost overwhelms the
poor child," said Mrs. Rocke, weeping.
"I will go at once and do what I can to soothe her," said Doctor
Williams, following Mrs. Rocke, who led him up to Clara's room.
They found her prostrate upon her bed, crushed with grief.
"Come, come, my dear girl, this is too bad! It is not like the usual
noble fortitude of our Clara," said the old man, kindly taking her
hand.
"Oh, Doctor, forgive--forgive me! but my courage must have been very
small, for I fear it is all gone. But then, indeed, everything comes on
me at once. My dear, dear father's death; then the approaching
departure and expected long absence of Traverse! All that was grievous
enough to bear; and now to be torn away from the home of my childhood,
and from the friend that has always been a mother to me, and by a man,
from whom every true, good instinct of my nature teaches me to shrink.
I, who have always had full liberty in the house of my dear father, to
be forced away against my will by this man, as if I were his slave!"
exclaimed Clara, bursting into fresh tears of indignation and grief.
"Clara, my dear, dear girl, this impatience and rebellion is so unlike
your gentle nature that I can scarcely recognize you for the mild and
dignified daughter of my old friend. Clara, if the saints in heaven
could grieve at anything, I should think your dear father would be
grieved to see you thus!" said the old man in gentle rebuke that
immediately took effect upon the meek and conscientious maiden.
"Oh! I feel--I feel that I am doing very wrong, but I cannot help it. I
scarcely know myself in this agony of mingled grief, indignation and
terror--yes, terror--for every instinct of my nature teaches me to
distrust and fear that man, in whom my father must have been greatly
deceived before he could have entrusted him with the guardianship of
his only child."