Richard Forrest, Bachelor — page 61: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

52 THE YOUNG WIDOW. less before this passionate grief, feeling about as uncom- fortable as she ever had in all her life. She considered her- self in a very awkward position and wished fervently some- thing would occur to relieve her from it. Something did occur presently. Miss Delmar rose, and after tearing the letter into bits, she lowered her vail, and without so much as a glance toward the discomfited Dolly swept from the house. Her brain could cope with but one idea—the disgrace of it—the horrible disgrace which her sister had brought upon her own head and the wreck she had made of her life. Florence singing upon the stage in the glare of the foot- lights for the lowest men to pass remarks upon, powerless to protect herself from any insults they might choose to offer her. Who would there be to care for her, defend her, advise her! Noone, not one sincere soul on earth. She wondered what Father Moore would say to this? How could faith avail now? Could any number of prayers save her or bring her back as she was? A dumb, sullen anger took possession of her as she made her way blindly to the cab, with its lean, white horse, awaiting her at the door. ‘‘AndI imagined my cup of bitterness was full!’’ she whispered. ‘Oh, I see it all now—she was driven to it, my poor darling—forced to fly from her home by that man. Oh, if there be a God, how can he permit such things as this? Where shall I turn for aid? I feel so powerless, so utterly unable to take the right course. And all this time she is drifting farther away from me—from me, who lived but for her alone!”’ Suddenly a burning passion swept over her, and she clinched her gloved hands tightly. ‘‘But even if she is out of my reach,’’ she muttered, ‘‘must I sit idle? Shall I return to that desolate home to mourn alone while, (€