CHAPTER X. "As if a door in heaven should be LONGFELLOW. POOR, desolate heart! Dark, desolate house! How shall the sunshine of joy ever again enter within these chambers? And the voices answered-Never again. Dimly and sluggishly came the memory of Albertine. She had neither father or mother or sister. Few were the friends she had ever known, brief the joys of her lonely life. Happiness, I felt I could never know again; but I would go and comfort her, the lone orphan. I bade Yoppa go and send John to me. When he came, I said "I wish to have the poney-carriage got out. I intend to drive over to old Mr. Bartell's, and perhaps I shall bring Miss Albertine home with me." "Are you strong enough to drive so far, Miss Minnie, do you think?" John asked, with some anxiety. Oh, I am quite strong, good John, so please let me have the ponies directly." * * * Arrived there, it did not escape me, that though Albertine had grown tall, she was slender and pale. I could not remain long, and the grandmamma eagerly accepted my earnest invitation for Albertine to return with me, and I saw in this, as in some guarding cares, that both her grand parents were overshadowed by the fear that their frail, slender girl was hastening to join her dead mother. The Bartells had heard of papa's great loss-they also remembered mine, but little was said with a direct bearing upon the subject these were wounds which shrank from the touch. But, as I parted from the old lady, she held my hand a moment, to say— "The Lord keep you in the midst of his holy angels." We drove slowly back, lengthening out for Albertine this rare pleasure. * * * Far down the carriage-way, we found John awaiting us, and his good face brightened, as he saw me driving safely up, and he laid his broad hand on the pretty, dappled heads of the ponies, petted and praised them for bringing the little mistress safely home. And then he took a sugared cake from his pocket and gave to each, at which they whinnied; laying back their smooth ears, champed the delicious morsel with evident pleasure. Albertine and I suited well, neither of us requiring anything of the other. But I desired Miss Standish to commence a course of study with her, if agreeable to them both, for I wished her to be wholly content, and to stay with me as long as possible. The study commenced, and from this time I seemed to fall into a kind of apathy, giving up an interest which I could no longer sustain. Papa spent nearly all his time remote from home, going away to the wild and rocky corners of his estate; was unusually active; was punctual in returning to dinner and tea, dividing out his time with such exactitude that not a moment could be lost, as if he had more claims upon his time than he could fill, or, perchance, was practicing some rigid self-discipline from which he could not, or dared not deviate. He began to look frightfully worn, and I had many fears, for I knew him to be a man of deep feelings, and slow to give them expression. He seemed to have forgotten my existence. No tender word, no kind anxiety for me. I would not let him see my tears, lest these should be the added drop to his bitter cup. I strove to assume little duties, to take or rather to contrive in my position as the mistress of Glenelvan, to move about, and if not cheerful, yet calm. Often my steps faltered and failed. I could not caress, but prayed that I might comfort him. My own life was full of great and bitter sorrow which reached down to death. Sometimes this dark and swelling tide rose up in my throat to burst forth in endless sobs. I hushed them down, chained them within my soul's great deeps, with a will, with a purpose whose strength I had never known before. My poor papa, I must live for him, comfort him When this great grief has passed, when it is less keen and bitter, he will have need of me. * * * I often suffered from He It was now in the depth of winter. a dizzy faintness. Lying upon a lounge, too weak or weary to sit up. If I heard papa's step, I would rise instantly, and join myself to some little occupation, or with a few simple questions, elicit answers, simple though not unkind. was never unkind; but now he was frozen in his sorrow. Once, it was evening, I drew an ottoman and sat down close by his side. My head fell upon his lap-I could not lift it up -I was half asleep. Suddenly papa raising my head, looked into my face. Minnie, my child, are you ill?” "No, papa; but tired-very tired." I remember nothing more, distinctly, only of seeming to be in my own room. A shaded lamp, with a soft, still light, and a shadowy form, like Miss Standish, or Albertine, bending over me, and cooling my lips. Then all this was forgotten. When I awoke again, the lamp was gone; a soft, mild light pervaded the chamber. Our old friend, Dr. Jackson, sat by my bed-side, holding my hand. He spoke. I heard a low murmuring sound, but could not comprehend the meaning of his words. Then he seemed to melt out of sight. It seemed to me but a few minutes, when the room was again darkened; the shaded lamp again there, and Miss Standish, or Albertine, or something that was neither, was sitting there with me, like a dim shadow, motionless-breathless-dumb. My chamber grew, to me, a cave of silences. No breath, or sound, or whispered voice broke in upon its quietude. Its floor, and walls, the heavy drapery of the windows, all its appointments-those long cherished bijouterie, and gifts, the links in loved memories-these, and I amid them all had grown to marble. * But at last my thin fingers were held tightly; a cool draught prest my lips. My eyes seemed to open of their own volition, and the good doctor was seated close beside me. His lips moved-he spoke, but I heard not, and turned wearily away, forgetting all earthly things. * * The sense of a purer atmosphere swept over me; a diviner harmony filled my ears, and I opened my eyes upon a garden full of flowers, lovelier than my mortal eyes had ever beheld. My mother! Yes, I saw her coming, with beaming face and outstretched arms, to welcome me to that glorious world. And there, folded within her snowy robe, was baby-Gertrude; her rosy fingers dropping the fairest flowers, and sweetest leaves, her blue eyes filled with a new delight, as if Heaven was now perfected for her. My mother! Her white robe fanned my cheek-she would gather me within her guileless bosom ! I But an agonized cry fell on my ear; the shadow of my poor papa came between me and that bright world. heard his pleading cry, "Oh, my God! Spare me, oh, spare me this one child !" I turned my face, as if speaking to one afar off, and thought I whispered "I am coming back, dearest papaI will not leave you." And then I sank down upon a soft and yielding bed, with sweetest flowers for my pillow; the air of the meadows blowing above me, and kindest, gentlest creatures soothed me, and wiped away my tears, There I leave the weary spirit and wasted body, to a long repose. |