Part 23 (2/2)

The lessons done; the signal made Of glad release and play, He, as he pa.s.sed, an instant stay'd, One kindly word to say.

”Jane, till to-morrow you are free From tedious task and rule; This afternoon I must not see That yet pale face in school.

”Seek in the garden-shades a seat, Far from the play-ground din; The sun is warm, the air is sweet: Stay till I call you in.”

A long and pleasant afternoon I pa.s.sed in those green bowers; All silent, tranquil, and alone With birds, and bees, and flowers.

Yet, when my master's voice I heard Call, from the window, ”Jane!”

I entered, joyful, at the word, The busy house again.

He, in the hall, paced up and down; He paused as I pa.s.sed by; His forehead stern relaxed its frown: He raised his deep-set eye.

”Not quite so pale,” he murmured low.

”Now Jane, go rest awhile.”

And as I smiled, his smoothened brow Returned as glad a smile.

My perfect health restored, he took His mien austere again; And, as before, he would not brook The slightest fault from Jane.

The longest task, the hardest theme Fell to my share as erst, And still I toiled to place my name In every study first.

He yet begrudged and stinted praise, But I had learnt to read The secret meaning of his face, And that was my best meed.

Even when his hasty temper spoke In tones that sorrow stirred, My grief was lulled as soon as woke By some relenting word.

And when he lent some precious book, Or gave some fragrant flower, I did not quail to Envy's look, Upheld by Pleasure's power.

At last our school ranks took their ground, The hard-fought field I won; The prize, a laurel-wreath, was bound My throbbing forehead on.

Low at my master's knee I bent, The offered crown to meet; Its green leaves through my temples sent A thrill as wild as sweet.

The strong pulse of Ambition struck In every vein I owned; At the same instant, bleeding broke A secret, inward wound.

The hour of triumph was to me The hour of sorrow sore; A day hence I must cross the sea, Ne'er to recross it more.

An hour hence, in my master's room I with him sat alone, And told him what a dreary gloom O'er joy had parting thrown.

He little said; the time was brief, The s.h.i.+p was soon to sail, And while I sobbed in bitter grief, My master but looked pale.

They called in haste; he bade me go, Then s.n.a.t.c.hed me back again; He held me fast and murmured low, ”Why will they part us, Jane?”

”Were you not happy in my care?

Did I not faithful prove?

Will others to my darling bear As true, as deep a love?

”O G.o.d, watch o'er my foster child!

O guard her gentle head!

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