The Shield of Silence | Page 2

story began.
CHAPTER I
"Wait and thy soul shall speak."
There is, in the human soul, as in the depths of the ocean, a state of
eternal calm. Around it the waves of unrest may surge and roar but
there peace reigns. In that sanctuary the tides are born and, in their
appointed time, swelling and rising, they carry the poor jetsam and
flotsam of life before them.
The tide was rising in the soul of Meredith Thornton; she was awake at
last. Awake as people are who have lived with their faculties drugged.
The condition was partly due to the education and training of the
woman, and largely to her own ability in the past to close her senses to
any conception of life that differed from her desires. She had always

been like that. She loved beauty and music; she loved goodness and
happiness; she loved them whom she loved so well that she shut all
others out. Consequently, when Life tore her defences away she had no
guidance upon which to depend but that which had lain hidden in the
secret place of her soul.
As a little child Meredith and her older sister, Doris, lived in New York.
Their house had been in the Fletcher family for three generations and
stood at the end of a dignified row, opposite a park whose iron gates
opened only to those considered worthy of owning a key--the Fletchers
had a key!
In the park the little Fletcher girls played--if one could call it
play--under the eye of a carefully selected maid whose glance was
expected to rest constantly upon them. The anxious father tried to do
his double duty conscientiously, for the mother had died at Meredith's
birth.
The children often peered through the high fence (it really was more
fun than the stupid games directed by their elders) and wondered--at
least Doris wondered; Meredith was either amused or shocked; if the
latter it was an easy matter to turn aside. This hurt Doris, and to her
plea that the thing was there, Meredith returned that she did not believe
it, and she did not, either.
Once, shielded by the skirts of an outgoing maid, Doris made her
escape and, for two thrilling and enlightening hours, revelled in the
company of the Great Unknown who were not deemed worthy of keys.
Doris had found them vital, absorbing, and human; they changed the
whole current of her life and thought; she was never the same again,
neither was anything else.
The nurse was at once dismissed and Mr. Fletcher placed his daughters
in the care of Sister Angela, who was then at the head of a fashionable
school for girls--St. Mary's, it was called.
Sister Angela believed in keys but had ideas as to their uses and the

good sense to keep them out of sight.
Under her wise and loving rule Doris Fletcher never suspected the hold
upon her and, while she did not forget the experience she had once had
outside the park, she no longer yearned to repeat it, for the present was
wholesomely full. As for Meredith, she felt that all danger was
removed--for Doris; for herself, what could shatter her joy? It was only
running outside gates that brought trouble.
Just after the Fletcher girls graduated from St. Mary's Sister Angela's
health failed.
Mr. Fletcher at this time proved his gratitude and affection in a delicate
and understanding way. He bought a neglected estate in the South and
provided a sufficient sum of money for its restoration and upkeep, and
this he put in Sister Angela's care.
"There is need of such work as you can do there," he said; "and it has
always been a dream of my life to help those people of the hills. Sister,
make my dream come true."
Angela at once got in touch with Father Noble, who was winning his
way against great odds in the country surrounding Silver Gap, and
offered her services.
"Come and live here," Father Noble replied. "It is all we can do at
present. They do not want us," he had a quaint humour, "but we must
change that."
Mr. Fletcher did not live long enough to see his dream do more than
help prolong Sister Angela's days, for he died a year later leaving, to
his daughters, a large fortune, well invested, and no commands as to its
use. This faith touched both girls deeply.
"I want to travel and see all the beautiful things in the world," Meredith
said when the time for expression came.
"Yes, dear," Doris replied, "and you must learn what life really means."

Naturally at this critical moment both girls turned to Sister Angela, but
with the rare insight that had not deserted her, she held them from her,
though her