CHAPTER XI.
MRS. MERRYWEATHER'S VIGIL
MRS. MERRYWEATHER had had a busy day. There had been a picnic at OakIsland, which had taken all the morning and a good part of theafternoon; then there had been a dozen letters to write for the latemail; and finally she had taken Kitty's turn with Willy at gettingsupper, as Kitty had a headache. The sisters protested, each oneclaiming her right to take the extra duty; but Mrs. Merryweather had herown reasons for being glad of the hour of play-work with her little boy.Willy had been rather out of spirits, which meant that he, as well ashis sister, had eaten too many huckleberries; this afternoon he hadbeen decidedly cross, and required treatment.
Coming into the kitchen at five o'clock, she found the fire lighted, andthe kettle on, for Willy was a faithful soul; but he was frowningheavily over his chopping-tray.
"I wish mince-meat had never been invented!" he said, gloomily.
"Do you?" said his mother. "I don't! I am glad it was, even if I did nothave three helps last night."
"I was so hungry, I had to eat something," said Willy, in an injuredtone. "When I grow up, I mean to have beefsteak every day, and neverhave anything made over at all."
"I'll remember that, the next time we have brown-bread brewis!" said hismother smiling.
"Oh! that's different!" said Willy.
"Most things are different," said Mrs. Merryweather, "if you look atthem in a different way. Is that ready, son?"
"As ready as it is ever going to be. I've chopped till my arm is almostbroken."
"So I see! It looks as if you had cracked it. Well, now, it isn't timeyet to make the rolls, so we can take breath a bit. Come out on theporch, and let us play something till the kettle boils."
"I don't feel like playing!" said Willy, dolefully; "I don't feel likedoing anything, Mammy."
Mrs. Merryweather looked at him a moment; then taking his hands in hers,she said suddenly, "'For heaven's sake let us sit upon the ground, andtell sad stories of the death of kings!' That is a passage from RichardII., and it seems to fit the occasion. Sit down, Willy; right here onthe floor by me; I'll begin. Two minutes for composition!"
She was silent, looking out over the water, while Willy glanced sidewiseat her, half-interested in spite of himself.
"I have it!" she said, presently.
"King John put on such frightful airs, He met his death by eating pears.
"Your turn, Willy! two minutes!"
"Oh, Mammy, I can't play!"
"But you _are_ playing. Only one minute more."
"Well, then--does it have to be the real way they died? because I don'tknow."
"No! facts not required in this game."
"Well, then--
"King Og Was lost in a bog."
"Your metre is faulty," said his mother, thoughtfully, "but thestatement is interesting. My turn; you shall hold the watch for me."
"Time's up!" cried Willy, beginning to kindle.
"Oh! is it? What short minutes! Let me see!
"King Xerxes Was killed by Turkses."
MRS. MERRYWEATHER'S VIGIL.]
"Oh! I wanted Xerxes. Wait, Mammy. I have one!
"King David Could not be saved!"
"Good!" cried his mother. "That is the best yet. But we might branch outa little, I think, Willy. This condensed couplet is forcible, but notvery graceful. How do you like this?
"Tiglath-pileser, Tiglath-pileser, He tried to buy a lemon-squeezer; But no such thing had e'er been seen, So in a melancholy green, Oh, very green, and very yellow, He pined away and died, poor fellow!"
"That is splendid," said Willy, "but you took a little more than twominutes. My turn now!
"The great and mighty Alexander Was bit to death by a salamander."
"_Done_ to death is more poetic!" said his mother.
"Yes, but 'bit' is more savage. I like 'bit.' Your time's up, Mammy!"
"Oh! Willy, I am going to give you a subtle one this time; one in whichsomething is left to the imagination.
"The Emperor Domitian Consulted a physician!"
"But you didn't kill him."
"No, but the physician did."
"Really?"
"No, not really. What do you think of this game?"
"I think it's bully. Did you really just make it up, Mammy?"
"Just! Now the kettle is boiling, and we must come in; but as we go, letme inform you that--
"The Emperor Tiberius He died of something serious; But now we'll stop, And make the pop- Ov_ers_ before we weary us!"
Willy's gloom was effectually banished, and he continued to slaughterkings till the supper-horn blew.
The effect of this and other mental exercises, added to a cup of tea,was such that when bed-time came, Mrs. Merryweather found herselfsingularly wide awake. In vain she counted hundreds; in vain sheransacked her memory for saints, kings, and cities alphabeticallyarranged; in vain she made a list of Johns, beginning with the Baptistand ending with John O'Groats; the second hundred found her wider awakethan ever, as she tossed on her narrow cot. Mr. Merryweather, in theopposite cot, was breathing deep and regularly; he was sound asleep, atleast, and that was a good thing. Other than this, no sound broke theperfect stillness of the night. The full moon rode high, and lake andwoodland were flooded with silver light. A glorious night! Mrs.Merryweather sighed; what was the use of staying in bed on such a nightas this, when one could not sleep? If only there were some excuse forgetting up!
Suddenly she remembered that, the night being very warm, and the twochildren apparently entirely recovered from their slight indisposition,they had been allowed to sleep out on the Point, in accordance with apromise made some days ago by their father. She had not been quitewilling, but had yielded to pressure, and they had gone out, very happy,with their blankets and the india-rubber floor-cloth.
Mrs. Merryweather sat up in bed. "I ought to go and see if those chicksare all right!" she said. "After all, they certainly were not quite wellthis afternoon, whatever Miles may say." She glanced half-defiantly atthe other cot, but Miles said nothing. She rose quietly, put on wrapperand slippers, and opening noiselessly the screen-door of the tent,slipped out into the open, and stood for a moment looking about her. Howbeautiful it was! what a wonderful silver world! Sleep was good, butsurely, to be awake, on such a night as this, was better.
She stole past the other tents, pausing an instant at the door of eachto listen for the regular breathing which is the sweetest music a mothercan hear; then she made her way out to the Point, through the sweettangle of fern and berry-bushes, under the bending trees that droppeddew on her head as she passed.
The Point lay like the prow of some great vessel in a silver sea. Onetall pine stood for the mast; under this pine, rolled in scarletblankets, their rosy faces turned toward the moon, lay the children,sound asleep. Willy had curled one arm under his head, and his otherhand was locked in his sister's.
"Dear little things!" murmured their mother. "That means thatKitty-my-pretty was a little bit frightened before she went to sleep.Dear little things!"
She stood there for some time looking down at them.
"The moon is full on their faces!" she said. "My old nurse would tell methat they would be moonstruck 'for sartain sure!' How terrified I usedto be, lest a ray of moonlight should shine on my bed, and I should wakea lunatic!"
She glanced up at the moon; looked again, and yet again. "That is verysingular!" said Mrs. Merryweather. "Something seems to be happening tothe moon."
Something _was_ happening to the moon. It was as if a piece had beenbitten out of the shining round. Was it a little cloud? no! no cloudcould possibly look like that, so black, so thick, so--"Good gracious!"said Mrs. Merryweather; "it is an eclipse!"
An eclipse it certainly was. Slowly, surely, the black shadow crept,crept, over the silver disk; now a quarter of its
surface was hidden;now it went creeping, creeping on toward the half.
"It is going to be a total eclipse!" said Mrs. Merryweather. "I supposeI ought to wake some of them."
She stood a moment more, looking irresolutely at the sleeping children."I cannot possibly wake them!" she said at last. "Little lambs! they aresleeping so beautifully, and they certainly were _not_ quite themselvesthis afternoon. Besides, there will be plenty more eclipses; I'll go andwake some of the others."
The black shadow crept on. Hardly less silent, Mrs. Merryweather pausedbefore the tent where her daughters slept. Bell and Gertrude scornedcots, and their mattresses were spread on the floor at night, and rolledup in the daytime. There the two girls lay, still and placid,statue-like, save for the gentle heaving of their quiet breasts. A fairpicture for a mother to look on. Miranda Merryweather looked, and drew ahappy breath; looked again, and shook her head. "I cannot wake them!"she murmured to herself. "They are both tired after that expedition;Bell paddled very hard on the way back; she was much more flushed than Ilike to see her, when she came in. And Gertrude sleeps so lightly, Ifear she might not get to sleep again if I were to wake her now."
The black shadow crept on; the mother crept into the boys' tent, andstood beside Gerald's cot. The lad lay with his arms flung wide apart;his curly hair was tossed over his broad open forehead; his clear-cutfeatures were set as if in marble.
"He has such a beautiful forehead!" said Mrs. Merryweather. "He sleepsso very sound, that if I were to wake him he might not be able to sleepagain. Dear Jerry!"
She moved over to Phil's cot: Phil was uneasy, and as she stopped tostraighten the bedclothes, he turned on his side, muttering somethingthat sounded like "Bother breakfast!"
"Poor laddie!" said Mrs. Merryweather. "He looks as if he might have aheadache. I wish I had made him take a nice little cup of hot maltedmilk before he went to bed. It is out of the question to wake him, whenhe is sleeping so uneasily."
She left the tent, with hardly a glance toward Jack Ferrers, who lay inthe farthest cot. The idea of waking him, and having him disturb her ownboys, was too preposterous to be entertained for an instant.
The black shadow had crept entirely over the moon; no silver disk now,only a shield of dull bronze; "like some of the Pompeiian bronzes!" Mrs.Merryweather thought. "It is very extraordinary. I suppose I really_ought_ to wake Miles."
She entered her own tent, and stood by her husband's cot. MilesMerryweather was sleeping quite as soundly as any of his children; infact, he was a very statue of sleep; but his wife laid her hand gentlyon his shoulder. "Miles!" she said; it must be confessed that she didnot speak very loud. "Miles, there is an eclipse!"
Mr. Merryweather did not stir.
"Miles! do you want to wake up?"
No reply; no motion of the long, still form. Mrs. Merryweather breathedmore freely. "Miles was more tired to-night than I have seen him allsummer!" she said. "He cannot remember that we are not twenty-five anymore. It is very bad for a man to get overtired when he is no longeryoung. Well, I certainly did try to wake him; but such a _very_ soundsleep as this shows how much he needed it. I am sure it is much moreimportant for him to sleep than to see the eclipse; it isn't as if hehad not seen plenty of eclipses in his life. Of course, if it had beenthe sun, it would have been different."
She stood at the door of the tent, watching. Slowly, slowly, the blackshadow passed; slowly, slowly, the silver crescent widened to a broadarc, and finally to the perfect argent round; once more the whole worldlay bathed in silver light. Mrs. Merryweather gazed on peacefully, andmurmured under her breath certain words that she loved:
"'Queen and huntress, chaste and fair, Now the sun is gone to sleep, Seated in thy silver chair, State in wonted measure keep. Hesperus entreats thy light, Goddess excellently bright!'
"But if Roger had been here," said Miranda Merryweather, "I shouldcertainly have waked him, because he is a scientific man, and it wouldhave been only right!"