send messages of comfort must not be; that the people
who love you must bear it, as we all have done in our time, and trust
to God for consolation. But I have done a wrong! Oh, listen, listen to
me, my friends. I have left a child, a young creature, unprovided
for--without any one to help her. And must that be? Must she bear it, and
I bear it, forever, and no means, no way of setting it right? Listen to
me! I was there last night,--in the middle of the night I was still
there,--and here this morning. So it must be easy to come--only a short
way; and two words would be enough,--only two words!"

They gathered closer and closer round her, full of compassion. "It is
easy to come," they said, "but not to go."

And one added, "It will not be forever; comfort yourself. When she comes
here, or to a better place, that will seem to you only as a day.

"But to her," cried Lady Mary,--"to her it will be long years--it will be
trouble and sorrow; and she will think I took no thought for her; and she
will be right," the penitent said with a great and bitter cry.

It was so terrible that they were all silent, and said not a
word,--except the man who had loved her, who put his hand upon her arm,
and said, "We are here for that; this is the fire that purges us,--to see
at last what we have done, and the true aspect of it, and to know the
cruel wrong, yet never be able to make amends."

She remembered then that this was a man who had neglected all lawful
affections, and broken the hearts of those who trusted him for her sake;
and for a moment she forgot her own burden in sorrow for his.

It was now that he who had called himself one of the officers came
forward again; for the little crowd had gathered round her so closely
that he had been shut out. He said, "No one can carry your message for
you; that is not permitted. But there is still a possibility. You
may have permission to go yourself. Such things have been done, though
they have not often been successful. But if you will--"

She shivered when she heard him; and it became apparent to her why no one
could be found to go,--for all her nature revolted from that step, which
it was evident must be the most terrible which could be thought of. She
looked at him with troubled, beseeching eyes, and the rest all looked at
her, pitying and trying to soothe her.

"Permission will not be refused," he said, "for a worthy cause."

Upon which the others all spoke together, entreating her.