A meaner man would have taken
advantage of the sight, and exposed his rival. But Arthur had anything
but a mean soul. He believed Beth loved Clarence, as he thought a woman
should love the man to whom she gives her life. He believed that God was
calling him to the mission-field alone. He had only caught a few words
that Clarence had said to Marie, and he fancied it may, after all, have
been mere nonsense. Surely he could not have ceased to love Beth! Surely
he could not be blind to her merits! Arthur saw only too truly how weak,
emotional and changeable Clarence was, but it was not his place to
interfere with those whom God had joined. So he argued to himself.
But the night was passing, and Beth still lay there, no tear on her cold
white cheeks. The clock struck one, a knell-like sound in the night!
Beth lay there, her hands folded on her breast, the prayer unuttered by
her still lips--one for death. The rest were sleeping quietly in their
beds. They knew nothing of her suffering. They would never know. Oh, if
that silent messenger would but come now, and still her weary heart!
They would come in the morning to look at her. Yes; Clarence would come,
too.
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