Part 11 (1/2)

She turned the brilliant l.u.s.ter of her eyes Upon me. She had pa.s.sed beyond surprise, Or any strong emotion linked with clay.

But as I glided to her where she lay, A smile, celestial in its sweetness, wreathed Her pallid features. ”Welcome home!” she breathed, ”Dear hands! dear lips! I touch you and rejoice.”

And like the dying echo of a voice Were her faint tones that thrilled upon my ear.

I fell upon my knees beside her bed; All agonies within my heart were wed, While to the aching numbness of my grief, Mine eyes refused the solace of a tear,-- The tortured soul's most merciful relief.

Her wasted hand caressed my bended head For one sad, sacred moment. Then she said, In that low tone so like the wind's refrain, ”Maurine, my own! give not away to pain; The time is precious. Ere another dawn My soul may hear the summons and pa.s.s on.

Arise, sweet sister! rest a little while, And when refreshed, come hither. I grow weak With every hour that pa.s.ses. I must speak And make my dying wishes known to-night.

Go now.” And in the halo of her smile, Which seemed to fill the room with golden light, I turned and left her.

Later in the gloom, Of coming night, I entered that dim room, And sat down by her. Vivian held her hand: And on the pillow at her side, there smiled The beauteous count'nance of a sleeping child.

”Maurine,” spoke Helen, ”for three blissful years, My heart has dwelt in an enchanted land; And I have drank the sweetened cup of joy, Without one drop of anguish or alloy.

And so, ere Pain embitters it with gall, Or sad-eyed Sorrow fills it full of tears, And bids me quaff, which is the Fate of all Who linger long upon this troubled way, G.o.d takes me to the realm of Endless Day, To mingle with his angels, who alone Can understand such bliss as I have known.

I do not murmur. G.o.d has heaped my measure, In three short years, full to the brim with pleasure; And, from the fullness of an earthly love, I pa.s.s to th' Immortal arms above, Before I even brush the skirts of Woe.

”I leave my aged parents here below, With none to comfort them. Maurine, sweet friend!

Be kind to them, and love them to the end, Which may not be far distant.

And I leave A soul immortal in your charge, Maurine.

From this most holy, sad and sacred eve, Till G.o.d shall claim her, she is yours to keep, To love and shelter, to protect and guide.”

She touched the slumb'ring cherub at her side, And Vivian gently bore her, still asleep, And laid the precious burden on my breast.

A solemn silence fell upon the scene.

And when the sleeping infant smiled, and pressed My yielding bosom with her waxen cheek, I felt it would be sacrilege to speak, Such wordless joy possessed me.

Oh! at last This infant, who, in that tear-blotted past, Had caused my soul such travail, was my own: Through all the lonely coming years to be Mine own to cherish--wholly mine alone.

And what I mourned, so hopelessly as lost Was now restored, and given back to me.

The dying voice continued: ”In this child You yet have me, whose mortal life she cost.

But all that was most pure and undefiled, And good within me, lives in her again.

Maurine, my husband loves me; yet I know, Moving about the wide world, to and fro, And through, and in the busy haunts of men, Not always will his heart be dumb with woe, But sometime waken to a later love.

Nay, Vivian, hus.h.!.+ my soul has pa.s.sed above All selfish feelings! I would have it so.

While I am with the angels, blest and glad, I would not have you sorrowing and sad, In loneliness go mourning to the end.

But, love! I could not trust to any other The sacred office of a foster-mother To this sweet cherub, save my own heart-friend.

”Teach her to love her father's name, Maurine, Where'er he wanders. Keep my memory green In her young heart, and lead her in her youth, To drink from th' eternal fount of Truth; Vex her not with sectarian discourse, Nor strive to teach her piety by force; Ply not her mind with harsh and narrow creeds, Nor frighten her with an avenging G.o.d, Who rules his subjects with a burning rod; But teach her that each mortal simply needs To grow in hate of hate and love of love, To gain a kingdom in the courts above.

”Let her be free and natural as the flowers, That smile and nod throughout the summer hours.

Let her rejoice in all the joys of youth, But first impress upon her mind this truth: No lasting happiness is e'er attained Save when the heart some _other_ seeks to please.

The cup of selfish pleasures soon is drained, And full of gall and bitterness the lees.

Next to her G.o.d, teach her to love her land; In her young bosom light the patriot's flame Until the heart within her shall expand With love and fervor at her country's name.

”No coward-mother bears a valiant son.

And this, my last wish, is an earnest one.

”Maurine, my o'er-taxed strength is waning; you Have heard my wishes, and you will be true In death as you have been in life, my own!

Now leave me for a little while alone With him--my husband. Dear love! I shall rest So sweetly with no care upon my breast.

Good night, Maurine, come to me in the morning.”

But lo! the bridegroom with no further warning Came for her at the dawning of the day.

She heard his voice, and smiled, and pa.s.sed away Without a struggle.

Leaning o'er her bed To give her greeting, I found but her clay, And Vivian bowed beside it.