the air, the life of colour in the fields andtrees, all I suppose made their appeal at the doors of myheart; for I felt the pressure. It is the life in this Juneweather, I think, that reproaches what in us is not life; andmy spirit was dead. Not really, but practically; and the Junebeauty gave me pain. I was out of harmony with it. And I heardnature's soft whisper of reproof. Justly given; for when oneis out of harmony with nature, there is sure to be some wantof harmony with the Author of nature. The doctor drove mesilently, letting nature and me have it out together; till wecame to the old cottage of Molly Skelton, and he handed mefrom the curricle. Still the doctor was silent.
He stopped, purposely I think, to speak to his groom; and Iwent in first. The rows of flowers by the side of the walkwere tangled and overgrown and a thicket of weeds; no care hadvisited them for many a day; but they were there yet. Mollyhad not forgotten her old tastes. I went on, wondering atmyself, and entered the cottage. The sick woman lay on the bedthere, alone and seemingly asleep; I turned from her to lookat the room. The same old room; little different from what itused to be; even two pots with geraniums in them stood on thewindow-sill, drooping their heads for want of water. Nobodyhad watered them for so long. Clearly Molly had not changed.Was it only I? I looked and wondered, as I saw myself again atten years old in that very room. Here had been those firstcups of tea; those first lessons in A B C; and other lessonsin the beginnings of a higher knowledge. What had they allcome to? Was Molly the better in anything beyond her flowers?What had eleven years wrought for her?
I turned again from the past, as the doctor came in, to lookat the poor creature herself. She did not answer the words headdressed to her; I doubted if she heard them; she wasevidently oppressed with disease, which was fast making an endof her. Experience had taught me now to judge somewhat of thelooks and condition of sick people. Molly, I saw, was verysick; and I knew soon that it was with a combination of evils,which had taken hold of her, and made her poor existence awearisome thing. It was near an end now.
"Speak to her," - said the doctor.
And I did, and he did; but we got no response. None in words;I fancied that the look of the face bore witness to somearoused attention; might it be more? One hand of Molly's laystretched out upon the coverlid. She was a mass of disease; Ishould not have thought once that I could touch that hand; butI had had training since then. I put my hand upon that poorhand and clasped it. I fancied, I cannot tell why, that Mollywas sensible of my action and that she liked it; yet she didnot speak. - We sat so, my hand in hers, or hers in mine, andDr. Sandford watching us. Time went by. I hardly knew how itwent.
"How long will you stay?" he asked at length.
"I cannot leave her so, Dr. Sandford."
"You cannot stay here!"
"Why not?"
"It would be a peculiar proceeding. You would not do it?"
"I cannot do otherwise, Dr. Sandford. I cannot leave her alonein this condition."
"I cannot leave _you_," he said.
"There is nothing to be afraid of," I returned, looking athim. "And something may need to be done."
The doctor's look in answer was unguarded; it expressed somuch that he did not generally allow himself to express; itwas full of tenderness, of reverence, of affection. Full itwas of sorrow too. It was not a look I could meet. I turnedfrom it hastily; the former question was let drop; and we wereagain still and silent. I had enough to keep me silent, andDr. Sandford was as mute. All three of us only breathed incompany, for a long while more; though I suppose some of Dr.Sandford's meditations and mine came near together. I do notknow how time went; but then, the one to break silence was theone I had thought might never speak again. Suddenly she beganin a low sort of crooning voice, saying over and over the samewords -
"I am in the valley - in the valley - in the valley -"
Maybe half a dozen times she repeated these words; andforlornly true as they seemed of her, I was in doubt whethershe knew of what she was speaking. Could intelligence beawake, in that oppressed condition of the bodily powers? Herspeech was a sort of mumbling repetition. But then, with achange of tone, clean and round the words came out -
"But there's light in the valley! -"
My heart sprang with such an impulse of joy as quiteoverleaped all my own sorrows and took me out of them. ThenMolly had not forgotten; then the seed sown long ago had notperished in the ground or been caught away; it had beengrowing and springing all these years; life had sprung up inthe ungenial soil, even everlasting life; and what wereearth's troubles to that? One vision of unseen things, rushingin, made small all the things that are seen. The poor oldcripple, deformed and diseased, whose days must have been longa burden to her, was going even now to drop the slough of hermortality and to take on her the robes of light and the lifethat is all glory. What if my own life were barren for awhile; then comes the end! What if I must be alone in myjourney; I may do the Master's work all the way. And _this_ isHis work; to set the captive free; light to the blind; theopening of the prison doors to them that are bound; riches tothe poor; yes, life to the dead. If I may do this work, shallI complain, because I have not the helper I wanted; when Godis my helper?
I waited but till Dr. Sandford was gone, for I made him go;and then I knelt down by Molly's bedside, very, very humbled,to weep out my confession and prayer.
Molly slumbered on, wanting nothing, when I rose to my feet;and I went to the cottage door and sat down on the step. Thesun was going to set in glory beyond the blue misty line ofthe mountains; the June evening light was falling, infreshness and sweetness, on every leaf and blade of grass; andthe harmony I had wanted I had got again.
Molly's words had made the first rift in my cloud; the firstsunshine had reached me that I had seen for many a long day. Isaw it at last, as I sat in the cottage door and looked at theglory of the evening. I saw, that although my life might be inshadow for most of its way, yet the sunshine was on the otherside of the cloud, unchanged, and I should come out into it indue time. And others were in its full rays already; - and mypoor Molly was just going to find its brightness. Could I notwait a while? - just for myself? - and meanwhile do my blessedwork?
And now, in the hush of my spirit, nature came home to me withher messages. The sunbeams laid their promise at my feet, ofeverlasting joy; the hills told me of unchangeableness andstrength, and reminded me of what Mont Pilatte used to say.The air breathed balm, comfort, the earnest of gracioussupply; the beauty around me said that God would not withholdanything that was good for me. I could trust Him; and Ithanked Him for the messages of His creatures; and I prayedthat I, an intelligent living creature of higher order, mightlive to carry higher messages, for Him, to all within myreach. I gave myself to do His will. And as for the comfort ofmy life, God would take care of that, and be Himself myportion and my exceeding great reward.
The sun went down behind the Catskill leaving the mountains ina bath of glorified mist; and I, strengthened and comforted,left my door-step and went back to Molly. She lay as she hadlain, in what I might have supposed stupor; and perhaps itwas; but she had said there was light in the valley she wasgoing through. That was enough. She might speak no more; andin effect she never did intelligibly; it did not matter. Myheart was full of songs of gladness for her; yes, for a momentI almost stood up yonder, among the harpers harping with theirharps. Meanwhile I put the little room to rights; even as Ihad tried to do when I was a little child. I succeeded betternow; and then I sat down to wait; there seemed nothing more tobe done. The evening shades closed in; I wondered if I were tospend the night alone with the dying woman; but I was notafraid. I think I have done with fear in this world. Even asthe thought passed me, Dr. Sandford came in.
He had not been able to get any help, and he came to take myplace, that I might go home. It ended in our watching thenight through together; for of course I would not leave thecottage. It was a night of strange and new peace to me; peacethat I had not known for many months. Molly was slowly passingaway; not seeming to suffer much, needing little care;
she waspast it; and Dr. Sandford bestowed his attention upon me. Hesent for refreshments; had a fire built, for the June nightwas chill; and watched me and waited upon me. And I let him,for I knew it gave him pleasure.
"How do you do?" he said to me one time when the night was farspent.
"Why do you ask that, Dr. Sandford?"
"Must you know, before you tell me?"
"No, not at all; I was only curious, because I know you alwayshave a reason for your questions."
"Most people have, I believe."
"Yes, curiosity; but it is knowledge, not ignorance, thatprompts your inquiries, Dr. Sandford."
He smiled at that; one of the pleasant smiles I used to knowso well. I saw them rarely now. It made me a little sad, for Iknew Dr. Sandford's life had suffered an eclipse, as well asmine.
"I have not so much