CHAPTER III
LAUNCHED
Scarcely was the last word spoken when a sudden glory filled the room.So brilliant was the light that mother and son were startled. Thenthey saw what had been unnoted before, that day had broken, and thatthe sun, emerging from a single dark cloud, was shining, full-orbed,into the apartment with a light that, reflected from myriads of snowycrystals, was doubly luminous. Nevertheless it seemed to them a goodomen, an earnest, an emblem of the purer, whiter light into which thecleansed and pardoned spirit had entered. The snow-wrapped prairie wasindeed pure and bright, but it was _cold_. The Father's embrace,receiving home the long-absent, erring, but forgiven child, would bewarm indeed.
Though the bereaved wife believed that a brighter dawn than that whichmade the world resplendent around her had come to her husband, stilla sense of desolation came over her which only those can understandwho have known a loss like hers. For years he had filled the greaterpart of time, thought, and heart. As she saw her first and only love,the companion of a life which, though hard, still had the light andsolace of mutual affection--as she saw him so still, and realized thatshe would hear him speak no more--_complain_ no more (for even theweaknesses of those we love are sadly missed after death)--a floodof that natural sorrow which Christianity consoles, but was neverdesigned to prevent, overwhelmed her, and she gave way utterly.
Her son took her in his arms and held her silently, believing thatunspoken sympathy was worth more at such a time than any words.
After the convulsive sobbing had somewhat ceased, he struck the rightchord by saying: "Mother, father is not lost to us. He himself saidgood-by only for a little while. Then you have us to love and thinkof; and remember, what could we do without you?"
The unselfish woman would have tried to rise from a bed of death todo anything needed by her loved ones, and this reminder of those stilldependent on her care proved the most potent of restoratives. She atonce arose and said: "Dennis, you are right. It is indeed wrong forme to give way thus, when I have so much to be thankful for--so muchto live for. But, O Dennis! you cannot understand this separation ofhusband and wife, for God said, 'They twain shall be one flesh'; andit seems as if half my very life had gone--as if half my heart hadbeen wrenched away, and only a bleeding fragment left."
The patter of feet was heard on the kitchen floor, the door opened,and two little figures in white trailing nightgowns entered. At firstthey looked in shy wonder and perplexity at their tall brother, whomthey had not seen for months, but at his familiar voice, recallingmany a romp and merry time together, they rushed to his arms as of old.
Then they drew near the bed to give their father his accustomed morningkiss; but, as they approached, he seemed so still that awe began tocreep over their little faces. A dim recollection of the farewell kissgiven a few hours before, when they were scarcely awake, recurred tothem.
"Father," said the elder (about five), "we want to give yougood-morning kiss."
Seldom had their father been so sick or irritable but that he reachedout his arms to his little ones and gave them a warm embrace, that didhim more good than he realized. The influence of trusting children issometimes the most subtile oil that can be thrown on the troubledwaters of life.
But as the little ones saw that their father made no response to theirapproach and appeal, they timidly drew a step nearer, and looked intohis wasted, yet peaceful face, with its closed eyes and motionlessrepose, and then, turning to their mother, said in a loud whisper,with faces full of perplexity and trouble, "Is papa asleep?"
The little figures in their white drapery, standing beside their deadfather, waiting to perform the usual, well-remembered household rite,proved a scene too touching for the poor mother's self-control, andagain she gave way to a burst of sorrow. But her son, true to hisresolution to be the stay and strength of the family, hastened to thechildren, and, taking them by the hand, said gently: "Yes, little ones,papa is asleep. It may be a long time before he wakes, but he surelywill by and by, and then he will never be sick any more. Come, we willgo into the other room and sing a pretty hymn about papa's sleep."
The thought of hearing their brother sing lured them away at once, forhe had a mellow tenor voice that seemed to the little girls sweeterthan a bird's. A moment later the widow's heart was comforted by hearingthose words that have been balm for so many wounds:
"Asleep in Jesus! blessed sleep! From which none ever wakes to weep."
Then, putting on his sisters' flannel wrappers, he set them down bythe fire, telling stories in the meantime to divert their thoughtsfrom the scene they had just witnessed.
Thus no horror of death was suffered to enter their young minds. Theywere not brought face to face with a dreadful mystery which they couldnot understand, but which would have a sinister effect for life.Gradually they would learn the truth, but still the first impressionwould remain, and their father's death would ever be to them a sleepfrom which he would wake by and by, "never to be sick any more."
Dennis set about preparations for their simple morning meal so deftlyand easily as to show that it was no unaccustomed task. A sister olderthan himself had died while yet an infant, leaving a heartache tillhe came--God's best remedy. Then two sisters had died after his day,and he had been compelled to be to his mother daughter as well as son,to make himself useful in every household task. His father had beenwrapped up in useless inventions, vain enterprises, and was much away.So mother and son were constantly together. He had early become a greatcomfort and help to her, God blessing her in this vital respect, thoughher lot seemed hard in other ways. Thus, while he had the heart andcourage of a man, he also had the quick, supple hand and gentle bearingof a woman, when occasion required. As proof of his skill, a temptingmeal from the simplest materials was placed smoking on the table, andthe little girls were soon chatting contentedly over their breakfast.In the meantime the wife within had drawn near her dead husband andtaken his cold hand. For a while she dwelt on the past in strong andtearful agony, then, in accordance with long-established habit, herthoughts went forward into the future. In imagination she was presentat her husband's reception in heaven. The narrow, meagre room meltedaway, and her feet seemed to stand on the "golden pavement." Thejubilant clash of heavenly cymbals thrilled her heart. She seemedtaking part in a triumphal march led by celestial minstrelsy towardthe throne. She saw her husband mount its white, glistening steps, sochanged, and yet so like his former self when full of love, youth, andhope. He appeared overwhelmed with a sense of unworthiness, but hisreception was all the more kind and reassuring. Then as he departedfrom the royal presence, crowned with God's love and favor forever,though he had all heaven before him, he seemed looking for her as thathe longed for most, and her strong effort to reach his side arousedher from her revery as from a dream. But her vision had strengthenedher, as was ever the case, and the bitterness of grief was passed.Imprinting a long kiss on her husband's cold forehead, she joined herfamily in the outer room with calm and quiet mien. Her son saw andunderstood the change in his mother's manner, and from long experienceknew its cause.
We need not dwell on what followed--preparations for burial, thefuneral, the return to a home from which one who had filled so largea place had gone--a home on which rested the shadow of death. Theseare old, familiar scenes, acted over and over every day, and yet inthe little households where they occur there is a terrible sense ofnovelty as if they then happened for the first time. The family feelas if they were passing through a chaotic period--the old world breakingup and vanishing, and a new formation and combination of all theelements that make up life taking place.
Many changes followed. Their farm was sold. Part of a small house inthe village of Bankville was rented as their future residence. A verysmall annuity from some property in the East, left by Mrs. Fleet'sfather, was, with Dennis's labor, all the family had to depend onnow--a meagre prospect.
But Dennis was very sanguine; for in this respect he had his father'stemperament. The world was all before
him, and Chicago, the young andgiant city of the West, seemed an Eldorado, where fortune, and perhapsfame, might soon be won. He would not only place the family beyondwant, but surround them with every luxury.
Dennis, wise and apt as far as his knowledge went, was in some respectsas simple and ignorant as a child. There were many phases and conditionsof society of which he had never dreamed. Of the ways of the rich andfashionable, of the character of artificial life, he had not theremotest experience. He could not see or understand the distinctionsand barriers that to the world are more impassable than those ofignorance, stupidity, and even gross immorality. He would learn, tohis infinite surprise, that even in a Western democratic city men wouldbe welcomed in society whose hand no pure woman or honorable man oughtto touch, while he, a gentleman by birth, education, and especiallycharacter, would not be recognized at all. He would discover thatwealth and the indorsement of a few fashionable people, though allelse were lacking, would be a better passport than the noblest qualitiesand fine abilities. As we follow him from the seclusion of his simplecountry home into the complicated life of the world, all this willbecome apparent.
Long and earnest was the conversation between mother and son beforethey separated. Pure and noble were the maxims that she sought toinstil into his mind. They may not have been worldly wise, but theywere heavenly wise. Though some of her advice in the letter might availlittle, since she knew less of the world than did her son, still inits spirit it contained the best of all wisdom, profitable for thislife and the life to come. But she sent him forth to seek his fortuneand theirs with less solicitude than most mothers have just cause tofeel, for she knew that he had Christian principle, and had passedthrough discipline that had sobered and matured him far beyond hisyears. She saw, however, in every word and act his father's sanguinetemperament. He was expecting much, hoping far more, and she fearedthat he also was destined to many a bitter disappointment. Still shebelieved that he possessed a good strong substratum of common-sense,and this combined with the lessons of faith and patience taught of Godwould prove the ballast his father had lacked.
She sought to modify his towering hopes and rose-colored visions, butto little purpose. Young, buoyant, in splendid health, with a surplusof warm blood tingling in every vein, how could he take a prudent,distrustful view of the world? It seemed to beckon him smilingly intoany path of success he might choose. Had not many won the victory? andwho ever felt braver and more determined than he, with the needs ofthe dear ones at home added to his own incentives and ambitions? So,with many embraces, lingering kisses, and farewell words, that lostnot their meaning though said over and over again, they parted. Thestage carried him to the nearest railway station, and the express trainbore him rapidly toward the great city where he expected to find allthat a man's heart most craves on earth.
Sanguine as his father, constant as his mother, with a nature thatwould go right or wrong with tremendous energy, as direction might begiven it, he was destined to live no tame, colorless life, but wouldeither enjoy much, or else suffer much. To his young heart, swellingwith hopes, burning with zeal to distinguish himself and provide forthose he was leaving, even the bleak, snow-clad prairie seemed an arenain which he might accomplish a vague something.