"Mr. Beverley," she exclaimed, "dear brother, is it you--"
"Yes, Clemency, and--and I have kept my promise, I have brought you--"
But no need for words; Clemency had seen. "Father!" she cried,
stretching out her arms, "oh, dear father!"
"Beatrix," said the preacher, his voice very broken, "oh, my child,
--forgive me--!" But Clemency had caught him in her arms, had drawn
him into the little shop, and, pillowing the silvery head upon her
young bosom, folded it there, and so hung above him all sighs, and
tears, and tender endearments.
Then Barnabas closed the door upon them and, sighing, went upon his
way. He walked with lagging step and with gaze ever upon the ground,
heedless alike of the wondering looks of those he passed, or of time,
or of place, or of the voices that still wailed, and wrangled, and
roared songs; conscious only of the pain in his head, the dull ache
at his heart, and the ever-growing doubt and fear within him.