Joris and Lysbet talked it over together. "Cohen told me," said Joris,
"that Captain Hyde called to bid him good-by. He said, 'He is a very
honourable young man, a very grateful young man, and I rejoice that I
was helpful in saving his life.' Then I asked him in what ship he was to
sail, and he said 'The Dauntless.' She left her moorings this morning
between nine and ten. She carries troops to Kingston, Captain Earle in
command; and I heard that Captain Hyde has a year's furlough."
Lysbet drew her lips tight, and said nothing. The last shadow of her own
dream had departed also, but it was of her child she thought. At that
hour she hated Hyde; and, after Joris had gone, she said in low, angry
tones, over and over, as she folded the freshly ironed linen, "I wish
that Neil had killed him!" About two o'clock she went to Katherine. The
girl opened her door at once to her. There was nothing to be said, no
hope to offer. Joris had seen Hyde embark; he had heard Mrs. Gordon and
the colonel bid him farewell. Several of his brother officers, also, and
the privates of his own troop, had been on the dock to see him sail. His
departure was beyond dispute.
And even while she looked at the woeful young face before her, the
mother anticipated the smaller, festering sorrows that would spring from
this great one,--the shame and mortification the mockery of those who
had envied Katherine; the inquiries, condolences, and advices of
friends; the complacent self-congratulation of Batavius, who would be
certain to remind them of every provoking admonition he had given on the
subject. And who does not know that these little trials of life are its
hardest trials? The mother did not attempt to say one word of comfort,
or hope, or excuse. She only took the child in her arms, and wept for
her. At this hour she would not wound her by even an angry word
concerning him.
"I loved him so much, moeder."
"Thou could not help it. Handsome, and gallant, and gay he was. I never
shall forget seeing thee dance with him."
"And he did love me. A woman knows when she is loved."
"Yes, I am sure he loved thee."
"He has gone? Really gone?"
"No doubt is there of it. Stay in thy room, and have thy grief out with
thyself."
"No; I will come to my work. Every day will now be the same. I shall
look no more for any joy; but my duty I will do."