own, conceived a truly maternalaffection for this young kinsman, and took much pains with him both asto the care of his body and the training of his mind. He was an aptpupil, and she had so happy a manner of imparting knowledge, that helearnt more, as he has since said, in those brief sojourns in herhouse than at school from more austere masters. After I came into theworld, he took delight to rock me in my cradle, or play with me as Isat on my mother's knee; and when I first began to walk, he would leadme by the hand into the garden, and laugh to see me clutch marigoldsor cry for a sunflower.
"I warrant thou hast an eye to gold, Con," he would say; "for 'tis theyellow flowers that please thee best."
There is an old hollow tree on the lawn at Sherwood Hall where I oftenhid from him in sport, and he would make pretence to seek meelsewhere, till a laugh revealed me to him, and a chase ensued downthe approach or round the maze. He never tired of my petulance, orspoke rude words, as boys are wont to do; and had a more serious andcontemplative spirit than is often seen in young people, and likewisea singular fancy for gazing at the sky when glowing with sunset huesor darkened by storms, and most of all when studded at night withstars. On a calm clear night I have noticed him for a length of time,forgetting all things else, fix his eyes on the heavens, as if readingthe glory of the Lord therein revealed.
My parents did not speak to him of Catholic faith and worship, becauseMr. Genings, before he suffered his sons to stay in their house, hadmade them promise that no talk of religion should be ministered tothem in their childhood. It was a sore trial to my mother to refrain,as the Psalmist saith, from good words, which were ever rising fromher heart to her lips, as pure water from a deep spring. But sheinstructed him in many things which belong to gentle learning, and inFrench, which she knew well; and taught him music, in which hemade great progress. And this wrought with his father to thefurtherance of these his visits to us. I doubt not but that, when shetold him the names of the heavenly luminaries, she inwardly prayed hemight one day shine as a star in the kingdom of God; or when shediscoursed of flowers and their properties, that he should blossom asa rose in the wilderness of this faithless world; or whilst guidinghis hands to play on the clavichord, that he might one day join in theglorious harmony of the celestial choirs. Her face itself was apreachment, and the tones of her voice, and the tremulous sighs shebreathed when she kissed him or gave him her blessing, had, I ween, aprivilege to reach his heart, the goodness of which was readable inhis countenance. Dear Edmund Genings, thou wert indeed a brother to mein kind care and companionship whilst I stayed in Lichfield thatnever-to-be-forgotten year! How gently didst thou minister to the sickchild, for the first time tasting the cup of suffering; now easing herhead with a soft pillow, now strewing her couch with fresh-gatheredflowers, or feeding her with fruit which had the bloom on it, ortaking her hand and holding it in thine own to cheer her to endurance!Thou wert so patient and so loving, both with her who was a greattrouble to thee and oftentimes fretful with pain, and likewise withthine own little brother, an angel in beauty and wit, but withal of sopetulant and froward a disposition that none in the house durstcontradict him, child as he was; for his parents were indeed weak intheir fondness for him. In no place and at no time have I seen a boyso indulged and so caressed as this John Genings. He had a prettywilfulness and such playful ways that his very faults found favor withthose who should have corrected them, and he got praise where otherswould have met with chastisement. Edmund's love for this fair urchinwas such as is seldom seen in any save in a parent for a child. It waslaughable to see the lovely imp governing one who should have been hismaster, but through much love was his slave, and in a thousand cunningways, and by fanciful tricks, constraining him to do his bidding.Never was a more wayward spirit enclosed in a more winsome form thanin John Genings. Never did childish gracefulness rule more absolutelyover superior age, or love reverse the conditions of ordinarysupremacy, than in the persons of these two brothers.
A strange thing occurred at that time, which I witnessed not myself,and on which I can give no opinion, but as a fact will here set itdown, and let such as read this story deem of it as they please. Onenight that, by reason of the unwonted chilliness of the evening, suchas sometimes occurs in our climate even in summer, a fire had been litin the parlor, and the family were gathered round it, Edmund came of asudden into the room, and every one took notice that his face was verypale. He seemed in a great fear, and whispered to his mother, who saidaloud--"Thou must have been asleep, and art still dreaming, child."Upon which he was very urgent for her to go into the garden, and usedmany entreaties thereunto. Upon which, at last, she rose and followedhim. In another moment she called for her husband, who went out, andwith him three or four other persons that were in the room, and Iremained alone for the space of ten or fifteen minutes. When theyreturned, I heard them speaking with great fear and amazement of whatthey had seen; and Edmund Genings has often since described to me whathe first, and afterward all the others, had beheld in the sky. He wasgazing at the heavens, as was his wont, when a strange spectacleappeared to him in the air. As it were, a number of armed men withweapons, killing and murdering others that were disarmed, and greatstore of blood running everywhere about them. His parents and thosewith them witnessed the same thing, and a great fear fell uponthem all. I noticed that all that evening they seemed scared, andcould not speak of this appearance in the sky without shuddering. Butone that was more bold than the rest took heart, and cried, "God sendit does not forbode that the Papists will murder us all in our beds!"And Mistress Genings, whose mother was a French Huguenot, said,"Amen!" I marked that her husband and one or two more of the companygroaned, and one made, as if unwittingly, the sign of the cross. Therewere some I know in that town, nay and in that house, that were atheart of the old religion, albeit, by reason of the times, they didnot give over attending Protestants' worship.
A few days later I was sitting alone, and had a long fit of musingover the many new thoughts that were crowding into my mind, as yet toochildish to master them, when Edmund came in, and I saw he had beenweeping. He said nothing at first, and made believe he was reading;but I could see tears trickling down through his fingers as he coveredhis face with his hands. Presently he looked up and cried out,
"Cousin Constance, Jack is going away from us."
"And if it please God, not for a long time," I answered; for itgrieved me to see him sad.
"Nay, but he is going for many years, I fear," Edmund said. "My uncle,Jean de Luc, has asked for him to be brought up in his house at LaRochelle. He is his godfather, and has a great store of money, whichhe says he will leave to Jack. Alack! cousin Constance, I would thatthere was no such thing in the world as money, and no such country asFrance. I wish we were all dead." And then he fell to weeping againvery bitterly.
I told him in a childish manner what my mother was wont to say to mewhen any little trouble fell to my lot--that we should be patient, andoffer up our sufferings to God.
"But I can do nothing now for Jack," he cried. "It was my firstthought at waking and my last at night, how to please the dear urchin;but now 'tis all over."
"Oh, but Edmund," I cried, "an if you were to be as good as theblessed saints in heaven, you could do a great deal for Jack."
"How so, cousin Constance?" he asked, not comprehending my meaning;and thereupon I answered:
"When once I said to my sweet mother, 'It grieves me, dear heart, thatI can give thee nothing, who gives me so much,' she bade me take heedthat every prayer we say, every good work we do, howsoever imperfect,and every pain we suffer, may be offered up for those we love; and soout of poverty, and weakness, and sorrow, we have wherewith to makeprecious and costly and cheerful gifts."
I spoke as a child, repeating what I had heard; but he listened not asa child. A sudden light came into his eyes, and methinks his goodangel showed him in that hour more than my poor lips could utter.
"If it be as your sweet mother says," he joyfully cried, "we are richindeed; and, even though we be sinners and n
ot saints, we havesomewhat to give, I ween, if it be only our heartaches, cousinConstance, so they be seasoned with prayers."
The thought which in my simplicity I had set before him took root, asit were, in his mind. His love for a little child had prepared the wayfor it; and the great brotherly affection which had so long dwelt inhis heart proved a harbinger of the more perfect gift of charity; sothat a heavenly message was perchance conveyed to him that day by onewho likewise was a child, even as the word of the Lord came to theprophet through the lips of the infant Samuel. From that time forwardhe bore up bravely against his grief; which was the sharper inasmuchthat he who was the cause of it showed none in return, but rather joyin the expectancy of the change which was to part them. He wouldstill be a-prattling on it, and telling all who came in his way