Volume Ii Part 88 (1/2)
If riches have their poisonous snares, Fleda carried away from this place a strong antidote. With a spirit strangely simple, pure, and calm, she went back to her aunt.
Poor Mrs. Rossitur was not quieted, but at Fleda's touch and voice, gentle and loving as the spirit of love and gentleness could make them, she tried to rouse herself; lifted up her weary head, and clasped her arms about her niece. The manner of it went to Fleda's heart, for there was in it both a looking to her for support and a clinging to her as another dear thing she was about to lose. Fleda could not speak for the heart-ache.
”It is harder to leave this place than all the rest,” Mrs.
Rossitur murmured, after some little time had pa.s.sed on.
”He is not here,” said Fleda's soothing voice. It set her aunt to crying again.
”No ? I know it,” she said.
”We shall see him again. Think of that.”
”_You_ will,” said Mrs. Rossitur, very sadly.
”And so will you, dear aunt Lucy ? _dear_ aunt Lucy ? you promised him?”
”Yes” ? sobbed Mrs. Rossitur ? ”I promised him ? but I am such a poor creature.”
”So poor that Jesus cannot save you? ? or will not? No, dear aunt Lucy ? you do not think that; ? only trust him ? you do trust him now, do you not?”
A fresh gush of tears came with the answer, but it was in the affirmative; and, after a few minutes, Mrs. Rossitur grew more quiet.
”I wish something were done to this,” she said, looking at the fresh earth beside her; ”if we could have planted something ?”
”I have thought of it a thousand times,” said Fleda, sighing; ? ”I would have done it long ago if I could have got here; ?
but it doesn't matter, aunt Lucy. ? I wish I could have done it.”
”You?” said Mrs. Rossitur; ? ”my poor child! you have been wearing yourself out working for me. I never was worth anything!” she said, hiding her face again.
”When you have been the dearest and best mother to me? Now that is not right, aunt Lucy ? look up and kiss me.”
The pleading sweet tone of voice was not to be resisted. Mrs.
Rossitur looked up and kissed her earnestly enough, but with unabated self-reproach.
”I don't deserve to kiss you, for I have let you try yourself beyond your strength. How you look! Oh, how you look!”
”Never mind how I look,” said Fleda, bringing her face so close that her aunt could not see it. ”You helped me all you could, aunt Lucy ? don't talk so ? and I shall look well enough by and by, I am not so very tired.”
”You always were so!” exclaimed Mrs. Rossitur, clasping her in her arms again: ”and now I am going to lose you, too. My dear Fleda! that gives me more pleasure than anything else in the world!”
But it was a pleasure well cried over.
”We shall all meet again, I hope ? I will hope,” said Mrs.
Rossitur, meekly, when Fleda had risen from her arms.
”Dear aunty! but before that ? in England ? you will come to see me. Uncle Rolf will bring you.”
Even then, Fleda could not say even that without the blood mounting to her face. Mrs. Rossitur shook her head, and sighed; but smiled a little, too, as if that delightful c.h.i.n.k of possibility let some light in.