Wives and Widows; or The Broken Life Part 48

"Don't, don't. Who could be comforted, and she lying there like a beautiful lily broken off at the stem? Look at her, Miss Hyde, and see if the smile is there yet."

"Yes, Lottie, there is a heavenly look on her face. See for yourself."

"No, no, I cannot stand it; in the morning I will kiss her hands for the last time. Let her sleep with the angels to-night; I won't come between her and them. They will take care of her now she don't want me."

"Oh, Lottie!"

She shook her head disconsolately, then it sunk on her knees once more, and was not lifted again all night; still I do not think she slept a moment.

Jessie came to her mother's room late that night. Lottie did not move; I arose to go, knowing how sacred were the rights of an only child; but she asked me to stay, saying--oh, how sadly--that her mother's true friend could not be in the way even there.

I told her that Lottie was watching, and had not once left her place by the bed. She went round to where the girl was crouching and kissed that portion of the forehead left exposed by the folded arms. Then, for the first time, I heard low sobs break from the faithful creature, and felt glad to know that she was crying.

"She is happier far than I am," said Jessie, with unutterable sadness.

"It seems as if I should never shed tears again."

She came back to where I was sitting, and sinking on the footstool that always stood near the chair, her head fell on my lap, her hands clasped themselves under the pale forehead, and thus she lay, heavy and still, weary with pain, but sleepless, till the day dawned.

That morning Mrs. Lee was to be buried.

With the first gray of dawn, we heard Mr. Lee's step coming up from the library below, where he had pa.s.sed the night. Jessie and I arose, and, bending over that calm face, left our solemn kisses on the lips and went away, giving her up to the man she had loved so devotedly. Even Lottie was aroused by his approach, and, rising to her feet, went heavily into her own little room, which was soon filled with bitter sobs.

We met Mr. Lee on the stairs. He had not been in bed that night and looked strangely haggard. No words pa.s.sed among us; but Jessie and her father exchanged a mournful glance that was more eloquent than language.

It rained when we took her away from her home, and a heavy gloom lay upon the beautiful landscape she had loved so well. Across the terrace, and down the flight of steps bordered with flowers that wept heavy drops, she pa.s.sed away into the valley--away to her eternal rest. On a rise of ground on the verge of the hills, we paused amid a cl.u.s.ter of white stones where sods lay in a heap, and the torn earth contrasted mournfully with the fresh gra.s.s.

As we neared the hill, a burst of suns.h.i.+ne broke the clouds asunder and lighted us forward. There were no sobs at the grave; our sorrow was very silent, and solemn as death itself. The very air seemed thrilled with awe as the funeral service rose upon it. Some one, Lottie I suppose, had laid a garland of white flowers on the coffin, knotted together with snowy ribbons. As they lowered the coffin the wind took these ribbons, and they fluttered up from the grave like the wings of an angel striving to rise heavenward; and through the first shovelful of earth rose a faint perfume pressed from the flowers which the gravel had bruised upon her coffin.

It was all over, and we returned to the house. On the steps, Mrs.

Dennison stood to receive us clothed in white, with black ribbons knotting up the sleeves and cl.u.s.tering at the bosom of her dress. This was the first time I had seen her since that fatal day.

Nothing could have been more decorous than her demeanor; her beautiful eyes seemed heavy with unshed tears, and Christianity itself is not more gentle than her tone and manner.

"Come," she said, addressing our Jessie, "let us mourn together as friends who have lost one who is dearest to us. If I have ever pained you, dear Jessie, forgive me for her sake."

Mr. Lee heard this, and looked wistfully at his daughter. Poor girl! she was too heart-broken for resentment, and held forth her hand. Mr. Lee stepped forward and laid his hand on those that the beautiful woman had just clasped.

"Jessie," he said, in a voice that thrilled all within its influence, "remember this lady was very dear to your mother."

Jessie did not answer; I think she could not command words, but she bent her head in acquiescence and pa.s.sed into the house.

It is a strange thing to say, but I believe that the few weeks that followed Mrs. Lee's funeral were the most tranquil of any that had preceded them since Mrs. Dennison came to our house. The great central object of interest in the household was at rest. All the little cares that had occupied us were over; the very altar of our household had been torn away, and for a long time we found it impossible to find new channels of interest, or settle ourselves down to anything. There was no longer an attempt at amusing our guest, and she did not seem to require it; indeed, from all appearances she had become a member of the family.

We seldom met now, but kept our own rooms. Jessie became sadder and sadder each day; nothing interested her; she absolutely pined to follow her mother.

CHAPTER LV.

OLD MRS. BOSWORTH'S VISIT.

Compacts made in a state of excitement are seldom lasting. If Jessie's heart had softened toward Mrs. Dennison in the extremity of her grief, it came back to the old standpoint as that grief took thought. Something more subtile than her own will held her confidence back. But this was no time for excitement of any kind; the depth of grief into which we had fallen kept all worldly pa.s.sions back. So, as I have said, we were more tranquil than of old.

Poor, poor Lottie! she went about the house like a wounded bird that had seen its nest destroyed. Without asking for leave, she had arranged Mrs.

Lee's room, in the tower-chamber, exactly as it had been during her mistress's life, and guarded it from her own pretty den with all the vigilance of old time. If any one entered the chamber and touched an article that had been Mrs. Lee's, Lottie would cry out as if struck by a sudden pang, and fall into a nervous tremor till the intruder had departed. She never allowed any one, not even Jessie, to enter the room without following her like a watch-dog.

No one was surprised at this. The devotion of that girl to her mistress had been something wonderful. That she should feel great attachment to anything belonging to her was beautifully natural. So it happened that she fell into possession of the rooms in the tower, and secluded herself there, taking little interest in anything else.

Some days after things had settled into this state, old Mrs. Bosworth came over in her heavy family carriage. In our sadness, this became an event, and both Jessie and I left our room to meet her, grateful for anything that showed real sympathy for our bereavement.

The sorrows which this good old lady had pa.s.sed through, placed her in delicate sympathy with us. She met Jessie with such motherly gentleness, that tears came into the young creature's eyes almost for the first time since our loss. The old lady saw this, and, drawing the agitated face to hers, kissed it.

"We have been very sorry for you, Miss Lee. Indeed, ours has been a house of mourning also; for there are cases where the same grief touches many hearts. I have wept for you, my child--prayed for you."

"I know it--I was sure of it," answered Jessie, resting her proud young head on the old lady's shoulder, and weeping those soft, warm tears that relieve the heart so much. "I have thought of you and of him. Tell me that your grandson is no worse."

The old lady kissed her again, and tenderly smoothed the glossy hair upon her temples.

"He is no worse, dear child--a little better, I think, since we have been quite alone--the tranquillity has done him good."

"I should like to see him," said Jessie. "Miss Hyde and I have missed him so much in our loneliness."

The old lady cast a grateful glance at me; then, turning to Jessie, she said,--

"It would make him strong enough to come, if he knew that his sweet friend desired it."

Jessie looked at that dear old face earnestly, and smiled through her tears.

"You are very kind."

While we were sitting together, Mr. Lee came in. He had seen Mrs.

Bosworth's carriage at the door, and, knowing how seldom the old lady went out, sought her to pay his respects.

It is seldom that two persons so thoroughly bred, and so singularly intelligent as Mr. Lee and our visitor, ever meet. Notwithstanding the sorrow that oppressed us, the conversation which sprang out of the first greeting brought cheerfulness with it. They did not talk directly of our loss, but every subject touched upon had a tinge of sadness in it, which betrayed the buried feelings and sympathy which lay behind.

I had not believed that such power of pleasing could be carried into extreme old age, as this old lady manifested.

While we were conversing, Mrs. Dennison came in, much to our astonishment; for of late she had rather avoided both Jessie and myself.

Mr. Lee presented her to our visitor, who put on her stateliest manner, and, after rising, stood as if ready to go; but her clear eyes were fixed on Mrs. Dennison's face, and she seemed reading her to the soul.

I think that Mrs. Dennison was, for once, awed by the moral force opposed to her; for such it really was. The graceful flippancy of manner, which most people considered so captivating, refused to come into action, and, for the moment, she really was awkward.

"I did not know that you had guests," said the old lady, with a stiff bend of the head. "If I remember, Mr. Lawrence told me that this lady would leave the neighborhood about the time he did."

The color flashed into Mrs. Dennison's face, and she replied, with suppressed anger,--

"Mr. Lawrence presumed, madam, when he ventured to regulate my movements by his own."