Part 10 (1/2)
”Unhappy girl! There she lay in her innocence and beauty like a summer lake whose clear waters have settled into stillness after a recent storm; reflecting, as they pa.s.s, the clouds now softened into milder forms, which had but a little time before so deeply agitated them.
”Oh, no wonder,” said her father, ”that the boy who loves her should say he would not leave her, and that separation would break down the strength of his heart and spirit. A fairer thing--a purer being never closed her eyelids upon the cares and trials of life. Light may those caros be, oh! beloved of our hearts; and refres.h.i.+ng the slumbers that are upon you; and may the blessing and merciful providence of G.o.d guard and keep you from evil! Amen! Amen!”
Maria on this occasion was deeply affected Jane's arm lay outside the coverlid, and her sister observed that her white and beautiful fingers were affected from time to time with slight starting twitches, apparently nervous.
This, contrasted with the stillness of her face, impressed the girl with an apprehension that the young mourner, though asleep, was still suffering pain; but when her father spoke and blessed her, she felt her heart getting full, and bending over Jane she imprinted a kiss upon her cheek;--affectionate, indeed, was that kiss, but timid and light as the full of the thistle-down upon a leaf of the rose or the lily. When she withdrew her lips, a tear was visible on the cheek of the sleeper--a circ.u.mstance which, slight as it was, gave a character of inexpressible love and tenderness to the act. They then quietly left her, with the excertion of Agnes, and all were relieved and delighted at seeing her enjoy a slumber so sound and refres.h.i.+ng.
The next morning they arose earlier than usual, in order to watch the mood in which she might awake; and when Agnes, who had been her bed-fellow, came down stairs, every eye was turned upon her with an anxiety proportioned to the disastrous consequences that might result from any unfavorable turn in her state of feeling.
”Agnes,” said her father, ”how is she?--in what state?--in what frame of mind?”
”She appears much distressed, papa--feels conscious that Charles is gone--but as yet has made no allusion to their parting yesterday. Indeed I do not think she remembers it. She is already up, and begged this moment of me to leave her to herself for a little.”
”'I want strength, Agnes,' said she, 'and I know there is but one source from which I can obtain it. Advice, consolation, and sympathy, I may and will receive here; but strength--strength is what I most stand in need of, and that only can proceed from Him who gives rest to the heavy laden.'
”'You feel too deeply, Jane,' I replied; 'you should try to be firm.'
”'I do try, Agnes; but tell me, have I not been unwell, very unwell?'
”'Your feelings, dear Jane, overcame you yesterday, as was natural they should--but now that you are calm, of course you will not yield to despondency or melancholy. Your dejection, though at present deep, will soon pa.s.s away, and ere many days you will be as cheerful as ever.'
”'I hope so; but Charles is gone, is he not?'
”'But you know it was necessary that he should travel for his health; besides, have you not formed a plan of correspondence with each other?'
”Then,” proceeded Agnes, ”she pulled out the locket which contained his hair, and after looking on it for about a minute, she kissed it, pressed it to her heart, and whilst in the act of doing so a few tears ran down her cheeks.
”I am glad of that,” observed her mother; ”it is a sign that this heavy grief will not long-abide upon her.”
”She then desired me,” continued Agnes, ”to leave her, and expressed a sense of her own weakness, and the necessity of spiritual support, as I have already told you. I am sure the worst is over.”
”Blessed be G.o.d, I trust it is,” said her father; ”but whilst I live, I will never demand from her such a proof of her obedience as that which I imposed upon her yesterday. She will soon be down to breakfast, and we must treat the dear girl kindly, and gently, and affectionately; tenderly, tenderly must she be treated; and, children, much depends upon you--keep her mind engaged. You have music--play more than you do--read more--walk more--sing more. I myself will commence a short course of lectures upon the duties and character of women, in the single and married state of life; alternately with which I will also give you a short course upon _Belles-Lettres_. If this engages and relieves her mind, it will answer an important purpose; but at all events it will be time well spent, and that is something.”
When Jane appeared at breakfast, she was paler than usual; but then the expression of her countenance, though pensive, was natural. Mr. Sinclair placed her between himself and her mother, and each kissed her in silence ere she sat down.
”I have been very unwell yesterday,papa. I know I must have been; but I have made my mind up to bear his absence with fort.i.tude--not that it is his mere absence which I feel so severely, but an impression that some calamity is to occur either to him or me.”
”Impressions of that kind, my dear child, are the results of low spirits and a nervous habit. You should not suffer your mind to be disturbed by them; for, when it is weakened by suffering, they gather strength, and sometimes become formidable.”
”There is no bearing my calamity, papa, as it ought to be borne, without the grace of G.o.d, and you know we must pray to be made worthy of that. I dare say that if I am resigned and submissive that my usual cheerfulness will gradually return. I have confidence in heaven, papa, but none in my own strength, or I should rather say in my own weakness. My attachment to Charles resembles a disease more than a healthy and rational pa.s.sion.
I know it is excessive, and I indeed think its excess is a disease. Yet it is singular I do not fear my heart, papa, but I do my head; here is where the danger lies--here--here;” and as she spoke, she applied her hand to here forehead and gave a faint smile of melancholy apprehension.
”Wait, Jane,” said her brother; ”just wait for a week or ten days, and if you don't scold yourself for being now so childish, why never call me brother again. Sure I understand these things like a philosopher. I have been three times in love myself.”
Jane looked at him, and a faint sparkle of her usual good nature lit up her countenance.
”Didn't I tell you,” he proceeded, addressing them--”look; why I'll soon have her as merry as a kid.”
”But who were you in love with, William,” asked Agnes.
”I was smitten first with Kate Sharp, the Applewoman, in consideration of her charmin' method of giving me credit for fruit when I was a school-boy, and had no money. I thought her a very interesting woman, I a.s.sure you, and preferred my suit to her With signal success. I say signal, for you know she was then, as she is now, very hard of hearing, and I was forced to pay my suit to her by signs.”