"Oh, Lord," she cried, "oh, Lord, who delivered the children from the
fiery furnace, deliver thy poor handmaiden now from her terrible foes!"
While she thus prayed she saw upon the writing table before her a small
penknife. Her cheeks flushed and her eyes brightened as she seized it.
"This! this!" she said, "this small instrument is sufficient to save
me! Should the worst ensue, I know where to find the carotid artery,
and even such a slight puncture as my timorous hand could make would
set my spirit free! Oh, my father! oh, my father! you little thought
when you taught your Clara the mysteries of anatomy to what a fearful
use she would put your lessons! And would it be right? Oh, would it be
right? One may desire death, but can anything justify suicide? Oh,
Father in heaven, guide me! guide me!" cried Clara, falling upon her
knees and sobbing forth this prayer of agony.
Soon approaching footsteps drew her attention. And she had only time to
rise and put back her damp, disheveled hair from her tear-stained face
before the door opened and Dorcas Knight appeared and said: "Here is this young woman come again."
"I declare, Miss Day," said Cap, laughing, "you have the most
accomplished, polite and agreeable servants here that I ever met with!
Think with what a courteous welcome this woman received me--'Here you
are again!' she said. 'You'll come once too often for your own good,
and that I tell you.' I answered that every time I came it appeared to
be once too often for her liking. She rejoined, 'The colonel has come
home, and he don't like company, so I advise you to make your call a
short one.' I assured her that I should measure the length of my visit
by the breadth of my will---- But good angels, Clara! what is the matter?
You look worse than death!" exclaimed Capitola, noticing for the first
time the pale, wild, despairing face of her companion.
Clara clasped her hands as if in prayer and raised her eyes with an
appealing gaze into Capitola's face.
"Tell me, dear Clara, what is the matter? How can I help you? What
shall I do for you?" said our heroine.
Before trusting herself to reply, Clara gazed wistfully into Capitola's
eyes, as though she would have read her soul.
Cap did not blanch nor for an instant avert her own honest, gray orbs;
she let Clara gaze straight down through those clear windows of the
soul into the very soul itself, where she found only truth, honesty and
courage.