CHAPTER XI.
"----Whene'er the good and just Close the dim eye on life and pain, Heaven watches o'er their sleeping dust, Till the pure spirit comes again. Though nameless, trampled, and forgot, His servant's humble ashes lie, Yet God has marked and sealed the spot, To call its inmate to the sky."
It was one of those brilliant and transparent days of June, neversurpassed in any climate. The little church stood clearly definedagainst the deep blue sky. The ocean, as the sun shone on it, was gemmedwith a thousand glancing diamonds, and here and there a light sail roseand fell upon it, like the wings of a bird. It was so still that the humof the noontide insects was distinctly heard. At intervals, the slowtolling of the little bell sent its echoes back from the surroundingforest.
It was the day of the funeral of the beloved pastor, and small groups ofthe parishioners began to collect about the church and the house.Heartfelt grief seemed to shadow every countenance, but the severe andreserved character of the New England Puritans allowed them to make nodemonstration of sorrow: they shut up within themselves every trace ofemotion, and spoke only in whispers, with a stern, determined air.
The garb and appearance of the people was rough and homely. There werefarmers with their wives, on pillions; fishermen with their roughsea-coats; aged women, bent and wrinkled, who had come to lay in thegrave one whom they had hoped would have prayed at and blessed their ownburial.
The house at length was filled with those who had the nearest claim, andthe ministers of the surrounding villages darkened, with their blackdress, the little apartment.
The two slaves stood near the bier, and the excitable temperament andviolent grief of the poor Africans contrasted with the stern, andsolemn, and composed countenances around them.
Edith at last came in. She was calm, but very pale; and, as she enteredthe room, she gave her hand to those who stood nearest. She tried tospeak, but the words died on her lips. Dinah was in a moment at herside. Her delicate and youthful beauty contrasted by her sable friend,and her lonely, unprotected state touched the hearts of these stern, butalso tenderly affectionate Puritans, and there were tears in many eyes,as they looked at her with respect and interest.
The windows were all open; the concert of joyous birds, in their seasonof love and happiness, showed no sympathy with man in his grief. It wasso still that the silvery sound of the waves, as they touched the beach,was distinctly heard; and the voice of prayer, as it broke the silence,was the only human sound.
The voice of prayer ceased, and the quick hoof of a horse was heard. Ina few moments Seymore entered. He had heard of the death of his friend,and, impelled by an irresistible impulse, he could not remain at hisstudies. As he entered he was violently agitated, for death and sorrowwere new to him.
The color rushed to Edith's pale cheek, as she silently gave him herhand; but she felt a calmness which she could not herself understand. Achange had been wrought in her character by that nightly death-bed, andby four days of lonely sorrow. She felt that she must rely on herself.
The changes that are wrought by sorrow and reflection in a timid womanare not less apparent than those wrought by love. They seem, at first,to take from the exquisite feminineness of the character, but they bringout the latent beauty and strength of her spiritual nature. It is said"that every wave of the ocean adds to the beauty of the pearl, byremoving the scum that reveals its interior and mysterious light." It isthus with time and sorrow: they reveal to ones self the inward pearlbeyond all price, on which we must forever rely to guide us.
The oldest of the parishioners now approached, to bear their belovedpastor on their shoulders to the silent grave-yard. The ceremonial of acountry burial is extremely simple, but they had then an affectingcustom which has since been discontinued. As they bore the body to thegrave, they sang an anthem, and, as it entered the little enclosure, thegroups on each side receded, and uncovered their heads. The boys werehushed to awe, as the anthem rose on the evening air; the sun sankbehind the forest, and its last rays were reflected from the grave ofthis servant of God.
The exquisite beauty of the scene oppressed and wearied Edith as shereturned to her solitary home. She felt that though nature maysympathize with our joy, there is nothing in her bosom that responds toour sorrow.
But she did not return alone: Seymore had followed her; and, as theyentered the deserted room, her father's arm-chair was in its accustomedplace: even his slippers had been accidentally placed ready for him. Thecurtain had been removed from her mother's picture, and as sheapproached it, she met its pitying eyes fixed upon her. The unnaturaltension of the nerves, which had denied her, for the last four days, therelief of tears, gave way, and the very fountains of her soul seemedopened. She sank down on a chair, and yielded to the overwhelmingemotion.
There are states of the mind when the note of a bird, the fall of aleaf, the perfume of a flower, will unlock the bars of the soul, as thesmallest sound will loosen the avalanche. The unexpected sight of hermother's picture had overpowered Edith. O that we should receive amother's love in infancy, when we cannot value or understand it; and, inafter life, when we need it most, when we long for the heart that hascherished us, "we must go back to some almost forgotten grave," wherethat warm heart lies that loved us as no other will ever love us.
Seymore was terrified: he had never seen grief like this, and he walkedthe room with rapid and agitated steps.
Edith longed to be alone. She tried to conquer her emotion, but the sobsthat came from the bottom of her heart shook her whole frame. At lastshe said, "Pray leave me; I wish to be, _I must_ be alone."
Seymore could not leave her thus. He took her passive hand. "O," saidhe, "would that I could spare you one of these tears! If you could knowhow I reverence your sorrow, how my heart bleeds for you--O pardonme--if you could see my heart, you would see there a devotion, areverence, such as angels feel in heaven. Might I dare to hope that youwould forgive, that you would pardon the poor, unknown, homelessscholar, that he has dared to love you?"
Edith had become calm as he spoke thus impetuously, and her hand grewcold in his. She looked up: a beautiful and timid hope shone in hereyes; and, though her tears fell fast, a smile was on her lips. "We areboth homeless," she said,--"both orphans."
He caught from her expression a rapturous hope. At this moment thefaithful slave Dinah opened the door to look after her young mistress.It was the first time since her childhood, that the face of her sablefriend had been unwelcome to Edith; but perhaps it was happy for both;it arrested their tumultuous emotions, and gave Seymore, who left theroom immediately, time to arrange his thoughts, and reflect on theblissful prospect opening before him.
Edith held out her hand to her friend. I have before remarked thefigurative expressions in which Dinah clothed her thoughts. Her languageand her feelings were fervid, like her climate.
"I thought," she said, "the heartsease had withered in your bosom; butit has sprung up, and is blooming again." Then seeing the crimsonoverspread Edith's cheek, she added, "perhaps your warm tears haverevived it." But, as if ashamed of having said something not perfectlytrue, she took Edith's hand, looked earnestly in her face, as if askingan explanation of this sudden change.
Edith was wholly overcome. She threw herself into the arms of thefaithful slave, and longed to hide herself there. None but a mothercould understand her feelings, or one who had been to her in the placeof a mother, and knew every beating of her innocent heart.
There are moments when woman needs the sympathy of a mother, that firstand dearest friend of every human being. Dinah could not understand theimaginative character of Edith's mind; she could not sympathize with herthirst for knowledge, her love of the beautiful and the unknown; but thetear in her eye, and her quivering lip, as she pressed her child closerand closer to her, as though she would cherish her in her inmost heart,showed that she understood her nature, and sympathized in her happinesswith all a woman's heart.
That night, when Edith laid her head
on her pillow, she felt a secretjoy, a lightness of heart, which she could not understand. Shereproached herself that she could feel so happy so soon after the deathof her father. She did not know how insensibly she had suffered aninterest in Seymore to grow in her heart, and that the sentiments ofnature are weak when brought into contact with an absorbing passion.When she came to offer her prayer for guidance and protection, a feelingof gratitude, of thankfulness, overpowered all other emotions, and sheclosed her eyes, wet with grateful tears.