Roderick has been." "Icannot." "Oh, but do, dear Mamma!" cried a little thing with fairycurls, "do guess." "I cannot." "I'll tell Mamma," cried a stout sturdyfellow, a little older; "Mamma! he's been up the winding staircase ofone turret, and all along the leads and down the winding staircase ofthe other turret, and he has done it three times, and he has seen todo it better than I can."
Here there was a burst of laughter and a violent clapping of hands atthe little fellow's _Irish_ account.
"But why don't you do it as well?" asked an elder girl, "you that aregoing to be a soldier too!"
"Yes; I know I'm going to be a soldier; and I'll try and do it as wellas Roderick;" and off ran the eager child, followed by the rest of theparty, all but Roderick. He lingered behind, and edging his way easilyand quietly as usual to his Mother, having asked her where she was, hesat down on a footstool at her feet. The slight answer she hadoccasion to make, revealed by its tone, to the now acute blind child,that his Mother's mood was serious, and therefore he did not talk andlaugh of what he had accomplished, as he otherwise might have done.There was a silence of some minutes: at last, "Mamma," said Roderickgravely, "a light has broken in upon me to-day."
Lady Madeline started, and with difficulty suppressed a groan.Roderick felt the start: "Oh Mamma, Mamma," cried he more cheerfully,"you must not do that! I wasn't thinking about earthly light in theleast, but of a light which I know, when you come to hear of it, youwill say is a great deal better."
"Indeed! dear Roderick," said Lady Madeline, trying to seeminterested.
"Yes _indeed_. Mamma. Why, do _you_ remember, (_I_ had never thoughtabout it till it came into my head to-day;) but do _you_ remember thesilly time when I wouldn't fetch you any thing from the drawing room,unless there were candles in the room?"
"I recollect something about it," said his Mother.
"Oh, I'm so glad you do; because now you can laugh with me over thenonsense I used to talk and feel then: I remember I used to tell you Isaw _Bears_ when I shut my eyes, and wouldn't go by the pipes in thepassage, and more such foolish stuff! How odd it seems that I shouldnever have thought about this before, but I never did, and it nevercame into my head distinctly till to-day." And here Roderick fell intoa kind of dream for a few minutes, but he soon began again. "You knowwhat I have done to-day, Mamma. They told you quite right; but theyforgot to tell you I have been practising walking across the leads fortwo or three days, that I might be able to go the great round to-dayon purpose to tell you of it; because I thought you would be so muchpleased to know I could go alone all over the house on the day yearwhen I was first blind. So now, Mamma, if ever, when I am grown up tobe a man, an enemy comes and attacks the old Sea Castle, I shall beable to run about and give the alarm, for you know I could hear them,if I could do nothing else."
There was another pause, for Madeline could not speak: the oftenrestrained tears for her son's misfortune had this day burst forth,and could not be kept back; but Roderick did not know, and went on.
"Certainly those old foolish fears were very wrong, Mamma. And I can'tthink how it was, for you used to remind me always that God could takecare of us by night as well as by day, in darkness as well as inlight; and still somehow, though I knew it was true, I didn't believeit,--at least, not so as not to be afraid in the dark: how very wrongit was! Still I had quite forgotten all about it till this evening.But, as I was going the last of the three rounds, I sat down on theleads for a few minutes to enjoy the air. The sun was just setting, Iam sure, for it felt so fresh and cool; and it was, as I sat there,that it came into my head how strange it was that, since the day I wasfirst blind, I had never thought any more about being afraid in thedark! or by night any more than by day! Indeed it has been quite aplay to me ever since to do different things, and find my way about inall the rooms and all over the house, without seeing; and I have onlyknown night from day by getting up and going to bed. So that you see,Mamma, being always in the dark, has quite cured me of being afraid ofit: and is not this a very good thing indeed?"
"Very," murmured Madeline.
"I knew you would say so! But that isn't all I have got to say. Agreat deal more than that came into my head when I was out upon theleads."
And Roderick nestled closer to his Mother, and laid his arms acrossher lap.
"Something to comfort you still more, Mamma."
She could not speak.
"Mamma, you are crying! I feel your tears on my hand. Do not cry aboutme."
"Go on, dear Roderick."
"Don't you think," continued the child, "that people who wont listento what is told them, and wont be cured of being foolish and wicked,are very like the old Jews you told us about yesterday, who had Godamong them, and Moses teaching them what God wished them to do, andstill were as disobedient as ever?"
"It is true, Roderick, we are all apt to resemble the Jews in theirjourney through the wilderness."
"Yes, Mamma; and particularly people who can't trust in God, thoughthey know He is everywhere. The Jews knew He was in the cloud and thepillar, and still were always afraid He couldn't take care of them.And what came into my head was, that I used to be as bad as those oldJews once; knowing that God was present everywhere to take care of me,and still not _feeling_ it so as really to believe it, and not beafraid. But the blindness has quite cured me, and is it not verylikely that it came on purpose to do so, and to make me trust in God;for I have done so more and more, dear Mamma, as I groped about thisyear, for I have all along hoped He would take care of me, and keep mefrom falling; and, therefore, I think the blindness has done me agreat deal of good, and I hope I shall never be like the naughty oldJews again! This is what I had to say; and I hope you will be as gladas I am."
"I will try, my darling," cried poor Madeline.
The tenderest love, the bitterest grief, mixed with earnest strugglesfor resignation to the will of Heaven, contended in the Mother'sbosom, as she clasped her innocent child to her heart. He was almostfrightened. She lifted him on to her knees, and buried her face on hisshoulder. He put his young arms round her neck, and almost wonderedwhy she sobbed so bitterly; but he felt he must not speak.
There was a painful pause. Suddenly, however, a strange faint lightbegan to creep into the room, which had hitherto been graduallydarkening in the twilight. It was a mysterious gleam, like nothingthat is ever seen. It increased in strength and brilliancy, till atlength the whole place became illuminated.
Roderick's head was against his Mother's breast; and, besides, _he_could not see.
She, however, suddenly started up; the light had become so powerful,it had forced her from her grief. She sprung up in terror, and a faintshriek burst from her lips.
"Mamma, what is the matter?" cried Roderick, holding her fast.
"Oh, the light--the light, my child! there is such a light!" answeredMadeline.
"Mother, you are not afraid of _Light_!" exclaimed the bewilderedRoderick.
"Oh, but _this_ light! it is like no other;--it is awful!"
"Mother,--it is not the light of _Fire_, is it," cried poor Roderick,now at last turning pale. "But even if it is, remember that I can helpyou _now_; I can go everywhere,--all over, and fear nothing. I can goand fetch my brothers and sisters, one by one! Oh, send me; send me,Mamma! I shall be less afraid than any of you, for I cannot see thehorrid light that frightens you!"
As he finished, a gentle, prolonged "Hush!" resounded through theroom; like the soothing, quieting sound of lullaby to an infant. Andin the midst of the beaming light, the form of the long-forgottenFairy Eudora appeared before the eyes of the astonished Madeline.
"The Sea Castle is not on Fire, you dear, brave child," cried theFairy; "and your Mother has no cause for fear. I am a friend."
"Cousin!" cried the bewildered Madeline, "why are you here?" and aterrible suspicion flashed through her mind: and she pointed to herboy, and added, trembling with agony--
"Is that _your_ doing?"
"What if I say it _is_, Cousin Madeline. There is a long story aboutthat,
but we shall have time for it hereafter.--Dear little CousinRoderick," pursued the Fairy, seating herself, and drawing Roderick toher. "You have been a good boy, and got _light out of darkness_. Mindyou hold it fast. You did not use the light well, though, when you hadit, Cousin Roderick."
"I know I didn't," was his answer.
"If you could live the light time over again, you would be wiser,Roderick."
"I hope I should indeed," he murmured fervently; "but it is not likelyI shall ever see the light again."
"Little boys shouldn't say things are not likely, when