第130章 CHAPTER XXVI(3)

The pain at her heart seemed to make Jemima's brain grow dull; she laid her head on her arms, which rested on the window-sill, and grew dizzy with the sick weary notion that the earth was wandering lawless and aimless through the heavens, where all seemed one tossed and whirling wrack of clouds. It was a waking nightmare, from the uneasy heaviness of which she was thankful to be roused by Dick's entrance. "What, you are here, are you? I have been looking everywhere for you. Iwanted to ask you if you have any spare money you could lend me for a few weeks?" "How much do you want?" asked Jemima, in a dull, hopeless voice. "Oh! the more the better. But I should be glad of any trifle, I am kept so confoundedly short." When Jemima returned with her little store, even her careless, selfish brother was struck by the wanness of her face, lighted by the bed-candle she carried. "Come, Mimie, don't give it up. If I were you, I would have a good try against Mrs. Denbigh. I'll send you the bonnet as soon as ever I get back to town, and you pluck up a spirit, and I'll back you against her even yet." It seemed to Jemima strange--and yet only a fitting part of this strange, chaotic world--to find that her brother, who was the last person to whom she could have given her confidence in her own family, and almost the last person of her acquaintance to whom she could look for real help and sympathy, should have been the only one to hit upon the secret of her love. And the idea passed away from his mind as quickly as all ideas not bearing upon his own self-interests did. The night, the sleepless night, was so crowded and haunted by miserable images, that she longed for day; and when day came, with its stinging realities, she wearied and grew sick for the solitude of night. For the next week, she seemed to see and hear nothing but what confirmed the idea of Mr. Farquhar's decided attachment to Ruth. Even her mother spoke of it as a thing which was impending, and which she wondered how Mr. Bradshaw would like; for his approval or disapproval was the standard by which she measured all things. "Oh! merciful God," prayed Jemima, in the dead silence of the night, "the strain is too great--I cannot bear it longer--my life--my love--the very essence of me, which is myself through time and eternity; and on the other side there is all-pitying Charity. If she had not been what she is--if she had shown any sign of triumph--any knowledge of her prize--if she had made any effort to gain his dear heart, I must have given way long ago, and taunted her, even if I did not tell others--taunted her, even though I sank down to the pit the next moment. "The temptation is too strong for me. O Lord! where is Thy peace that Ibelieved in, in my childhood?--that I hear people speaking of now as if it hushed up the troubles of life, and had not to be sought for--sought for, as with tears of blood!" There was no sound nor answer to this wild imploring cry, which Jemima half thought must force out a sign from Heaven. But there was a dawn stealing on through the darkness of her night. It was glorious weather for the end of August. The nights were as full of light as the days--everywhere, save in the low dusky meadows by the river-side, where the mists rose and blended the pale sky with the lands below. Unknowing of the care and trouble around them, Mary and Elizabeth exulted in the weather, and saw some new glory in every touch of the year's decay. They were clamorous for an expedition to the hills, before the calm stillness of the autumn should be disturbed by storms. They gained permission to go on the next Wednesday--the next half-holiday. They had won their mother over to consent to a full holiday, but their father would not hear of it. Mrs. Bradshaw had proposed an early dinner, but the idea was scouted at by the girls. What would the expedition be worth if they did not carry their dinners with them in baskets? Anything out of a basket, and eaten in the open air, was worth twenty times as much as the most sumptuous meal in the house. So the baskets were packed up, while Mrs. Bradshaw wailed over probable colds to be caught from sitting on the damp ground. Ruth and Leonard were to go they four. Jemima had refused all invitations to make one of the party; and yet she had a half-sympathy with her sisters'