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Page 35
There the wife's joy overpowered her. After a pause, she put her
arm around Clara's waist, and spoke to her.
"Oh, my love!" she murmured, "are you as happy as I am? Is
Frank's name there too? The tears are in my eyes. Read for me--I
can't read for myself."
The answer came, in still, sad tones:
"I have read as far as your husband's name. I have no need to
read further."
Mrs. Crayford dashed the tears from her eyes--steadied
herself--and looked at the newspaper.
On the list of the survivors, the search was vain. Frank's name
was not among them. On a second list, headed "Dead or Missing,"
the first two names that appeared were:
FRANCIS ALDERSLEY. RICHARD WARDOUR.
In speechless distress and dismay, Mrs. Crayford looked at Clara.
Had she force enough in her feeble health to sustain the shock
that had fallen on her? Yes! she bore it with a strange unnatural
resignation--she looked, she spoke, with the sad self-possession
of despair.
"I was prepared for it," she said. "I saw them in the spirit last
night. Richard Wardour has discovered the truth; and Frank has
paid the penalty with his life--and I, I alone, am to blame." She
shuddered, and put her hand on her heart. "We shall not be long
parted, Lucy. I shall go to him. He will not return to me."
Those words were spoken with a calm certainty of conviction that
was terrible to hear. "I have no more to say," she added, after a
moment, and rose to return to the house. Mrs. Crayford caught her
by the hand, and forced her to take her seat again.
"Don't look at me, don't speak to me, in that horrible manner!"
she exclaimed. "Clara! it is unworthy of a reasonable being, it
is doubting the mercy of God, to say what you have just said.
Look at the newspaper again. See! They tell you plainly that
their information is not to be depended on--they warn you to wait
for further particulars. The very words at the top of the list
show how little they knew of the truth 'Dead _or_ Missing!' On
their own showing, it is quite as likely that Frank is missing as
that Frank is dead. For all you know, the next mail may bring a
letter from him. Are you listening to me?"
"Yes."
"Can you deny what I say?"
"No."
"'Yes!' 'No!' Is that the way to answer me when I am so
distressed and so anxious about you?"
"I am sorry I spoke as I did, Lucy. We look at some subjects in
very different ways. I don't dispute, dear, that yours is the
reasonable view."
"You don't dispute?" retorted Mrs. Crayford, warmly. "No! you do
what is worse--you believe in your own opinion; you persist in
your own conclusion--with the newspaper before you! Do you, or do
you not, believe the newspaper?"
"I believe in what I saw last night."
"In what you saw last night! You, an educated woman, a clever
woman, believing in a vision of your own fancy--a mere dream! I
wonder you are not ashamed to acknowledge it!"
"Call it a dream if you like, Lucy. I have had other dreams at
other times--and I have known them to be fulfilled."
"Yes!" said Mrs. Crayford. "For once in a way they may have been
fulfilled, by chance--and you notice it, and remember it, and pin
your faith on it. Come, Clara, be honest!--What about the
occasions when the chance has been against you, and your dreams
have not been fulfilled? You superstitious people are all alike.
You conveniently forget when your dreams and your presentiments
prove false. For my sake, dear, if not for your own," she
continued, in gentler and tenderer tones, "try to be more
reasonable and more hopeful. Don't lose your trust in the future,
and your trust in God. God, who has saved my husband, can save
Frank. While there is doubt, there is hope. Don't embitter my
happiness, Clara! Try to think as I think--if it is only to show
that you love me."
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