Part 6 (1/2)

It was true this sudden and unexpected relief, from an unknown source, had bewildered the girl. She could hardly bring herself to realize that her pecuniary troubles were at an end, for the time being, at least.

”I am very much pleased, Mrs. Mann,” she said, brightening, ”but give me time to get accustomed to my sudden accession of wealth, pray!”

”I would give anything to get that sad look out of your face,” said the good woman, coming closer to the girl, and folding her in a motherly embrace. ”Go out for a walk, you have been in the house all day, and you look pale and weary.”

The long day drew to a close, and night came on dark and chill. The wind wailed around the house mournfully, and as it drew towards midnight, continued to rise still higher. The clock struck twelve.

There was an uneasy movement of the invalid tossing restlessly. Once she made an effort to raise herself, and the thin hands wandered caressingly over the bright hair of the young girl who slumbered peacefully beside her.

”Poor darling,” she said, ”you are heavily burdened, but it will not be for long. I feel the hour approaching.”

A cold moisture settled upon her forehead, her breath came in labored gasps.

”Mother,” wailed Clemence, now fully aroused, kneeling beside her, and chafing the cold hands. ”Mother, speak to me?”

There was no response. The girl was alone with her dead.

”I declare, I am nearly distracted myself,” said Mrs. Mann to Alicia Linden some weeks after. ”It would melt the heart of a stone to hear that poor dear crying out in her delirium, 'what shall I do to obtain this or that for the poor suffering mother?' That's always the burden of her thoughts. It's perfectly dreadful. Mrs. Linden, do you think she _can_ live?”

”I hope she may, with careful nursing,” was the reply. ”We will do all we can, and leave the event with Providence.”

It hardly seemed a kindness to Clemence, when they told her, after she became conscious, of how near she had been to death, and that only the kindest care had won her back to life.

”It would have been better to let me die,” she said, thinking how little now she had to live for.

”If G.o.d, in his wisdom, saw fit to restore you, Clemence, it was for some wise purpose of his own,” said her friend.

”I know it,” she replied patiently; ”but I have suffered so much that I am weary of life. Remember, I am all alone in the world.”

”No, not alone, dear,” said the lady, ”for now that you have no one else, I intend to claim you. I love you already as a daughter, and I am going to care for your future.”

Clemence was too weak to do anything but yield, and when she was able to ride out, Mrs. Linden took her to her own home. But although she recovered sufficiently to walk about the house and garden, and to take long rides into the country, yet her faithful nurse began to fear that she would never be really well again.

”She needs a change,” said the physician. ”A journey would do her good.”

So they packed up, and went off to the seaside. The bracing air did for Clemence what the doctor's medicine had failed to accomplish. In spite of the languid interest she took in everything, hope grew stronger each day in the care of her watchful friend. And at last the roses came back to her cheeks, and when they went back to the city, in the cool September days, she was strong and well once more.

”Do you know, Clemence, it is six months since you have been under my charge?” asked Mrs. Linden, as they sat sewing by the bright fire, that the chilly fall day rendered agreeable.

”Is it possible?” was the startled reply. ”How long I have been a burden on your kindness! Alas! what changes have occurred within a short time.”

”I know what you are thinking of now, child, and I did not wish to make you melancholy by reminding you of the past.”

”Oh, Madam,” said the girl, ”it is never absent from my thoughts. You surely would not have me forget the great loss I have sustained?”

”No, Clemence,” replied the elder, ”that would be wrong, but I do not want you to brood over it. Remember who sent this affliction. 'The Lord gave and the Lord hath taken away.'”

”But she was all that I had to love,” said Clemence; ”what is life to me now?”