Aunt Judith: The Story of a Loving Life

  CHAPTER XV.

  HOW SHALL I LIVE THROUGH THE LONG, LONG YEARS?

  A balmy summer morning in the month of July. Outside, and far upoverhead, a dappled sky shining down on a world of light and beauty;green verdant slopes and wide sweeps of meadowland glistening stillwith the early dew; flowers blossoming everywhere, from the modestdaisy and golden buttercup to the queenliest rose and fairest lily;birds singing from every bush and tree their morning trill offlute-like melody; bees humming busily hither and thither; butterfliesflitting idly by or resting snugly in the heart of a flower; in short,the world of nature all awake and joying with a pure, glad joy in thegolden summer sunshine.

  Inside a darkened room, with softly-shaded blinds and peaceful hushbrooding over all, a girl--one might almost say a child--lying quietlyon a dainty bed with white, weary face and closed eyes, round whichdark lines of pain and suffering are plainly circled; and lastly, ayoung lady nestling back in a low basket-chair and keeping tender watchover the slight figure stretched so motionless before her. Suddenlythe heavy lids unclose, and a pair of tired eyes are raised, with asad, pathetic look, to the watcher's face.

  "Is that you, Edith?" asks the weak voice in low, feeble tones; and theyoung lady, bending down to press a kiss on the white brow, answers,--

  "Yes, dear; and I am so glad you have enjoyed such a nice long sleep."

  The child raised one thin, fragile hand, and pushing back the hair fromher damp forehead, spoke once more. "I was dreaming, Edith,--dreamingthe old days were back again, and that Dick and I were having such funin the oak parlour. Archie Trollope was there too, and we were chasingeach other round and round the room; but neither Dick nor Archie couldcatch me, my feet seemed so nimble. I thought it was true, Edith, anda great weight rolled from my heart; but oh"--and the low wailaccompanying the words pained the listener sorely--"I awoke and foundit was all a dream."

  "My poor little Winnie!" replied the young lady, smoothing the painedlines from the invalid's brow with soft, gentle touch. But the childhad not yet finished.

  "Edith," she continued, a wild, haunting look of unrest stealing intoher eyes, "I am so tired lying here day after day. I want to be out inthe sunshine with the birds and the flowers. Tell me, when shall I beable to walk in the sunlight once more?"

  Edith's face was wet with tears. "Try to be patient, dear," she saidin a somewhat broken voice; "one does not recover very quickly from anillness such as yours."

  Winnie seemed dissatisfied. "You don't look me straight in the facewhen you speak, Edith, and your voice has a little tremble in it.Hush! hear how the birds are singing! They know I dearly love thesunshine, and are calling me out into the midst of it; I hear themevery day warbling so happily. Do you think they ever wonder why Inever come--why I never dance up and down the garden walks and spendhours with them and the flowers as I did last year? And the sea,Edith--some nights, when the wind is sleeping and not a leaf stirringon the trees, I can hear the waves crooning a low, sweet song as theywash along the wide beach of sand. They also seem to be calling me outinto their midst; and I--O Edith, I cannot come."

  There was a passionate ring of pain in the voice, and the look ofunrest had given place to one of intense yearning. Edith's tears fellfast as she laid her head down on the pillow beside her little sisterand pressed warm kisses on the quivering lips.

  "Little Winnie," she whispered, "don't you think it is hard, hard forus to see you lying suffering here? Oh, my dear, can't you guess howwe miss your little dancing figure, and your bright, merry chatter?Our hearts are sore for you, dearest, in your pain and weariness, andwe would sacrifice anything to be able to raise you up strong and wellsoon. But we cannot; and, oh, little sister, try to wait patiently alittle longer."

  "You say that every day, Edith," answered the child pettishly. "It isalways the old, old story--wait a little longer; and when you speak inthat strain a great fear creeps into my heart and won't be shut out. Itry not to listen; I think upon other things; I tell it to go away, butit still remains. Edith, O Edith! tell me that some day I shall standup strong and well; tell me quick, quick, for something whispers thatwill never be."

  "Nonsense, dear!" faltered the elder sister; "you must not becomefanciful. In a short time I hope to see you quite better."

  "You don't say you are perfectly certain, Edith," cried Winnie, stillsuspicious, "and you look at anything rather than me. I believe myfear is too true; and if so, how shall I live through the long, longyears?"

  Edith hardly knew how to reply. "Hush, Winnie, hush!" she beganpleadingly; "you are rushing to rash conclusions. And only think,dear, we have you, though weak and helpless, spared to us still. Whatif you had died?"

  "I wish I had," replied the girl wildly; "I would far rather liequietly under the daisies than live a long, long crippled life. Oh, tothink I shall never again run races on the sandy shore, and laugh whenthe little waves splash my feet; never pluck the wild flowers and makesweet, fragrant posies; never climb the forest trees or sit under thegreat pines I love so well! I can't bear it, Edith; indeed I can't. Iwish I were dead."

  Her sister was about to speak, but she pushed her aside, saying feebly,"Oh, if I could only get my strength back again! I never knew what ablessing health was till I lost it." There was such a depth of pathosin the weak voice, such an undertone of sadness, that Edith almostbroke down again.

  "Winnie," she said softly, "I wonder how Aunt Judith would answer youjust now?"

  Winnie looked up through her tears. "I don't know," she repliedwistfully; "but she can't understand how awful it is to lose health forlife in one day."

  "No," responded Edith; "but I think, Winnie, Miss Latimer must have hadsome exceeding bitter sorrow--some terrible trial to bear in her owntime."

  "How?" with a gesture of surprise.

  "Because, dear, those books of hers which I have been reading to youlately are full of grand, loving thoughts, and strong, helpful words,such as could only come from a heart torn and bleeding throughsuffering. I never saw Miss Latimer, as you know, Winnie, but I amready to say with you she must be a good, noble woman."

  The little girl's eyes were brimming over again. "Don't speak of her,Edith; it makes me wish so much to see her, and mamma has forbiddenthat."

  "Not now, Winnie, not now!" said Edith eagerly; "she would be only toopleased to see your friend. At first, when you were so ill, you calledcontinually for Aunt Judith, and Algy was sent to Dingle Cottage insearch of her. He found, however, only a fast-closed door, and couldgain no information as to where she had gone from any of theneighbours. It seems the whole family left town for the summer on theafternoon of the examination day, so that I am sure Miss Latimer doesnot even know you are ill. She and Nellie were not in the school atthe time of your accident." Edith's voice faltered at this point: butrapidly recovering herself, she continued: "Then we bought all AuntJudith's books, dear, to try to cheer you a little. It was the onlything we could do. Some day, when we return to town, you will see MissLatimer again."

  Winnie lay weeping quietly. At last she said, "Please leave me alonefor a short time, Edith; I wish to think it all out myself," and theelder sister obeyed.

  Slipping on her hat, she passed out of the house into the sunshine andwended her way slowly towards the shore, the words ringing in her earswith that low wail of intense pain--"How shall I live through the long,long years?"

  Poor Winnie! her fears were but too well grounded. No hope wasentertained of her ever being able to leave her couch again.

  When the kind-hearted doctor had broken the news to the sorrowingfamily, almost the first thought of each was, How would she bear it?How would she, the little restless sprite, always flitting about hereand there, endure perhaps a long life of crippled helplessness? Andoh! how were they to tell her of the sad future, stretching far intothe coming years? It was all very well to waive her questions in themeantime, but that could not be done much longer. Already the childseemed listening to each word with a haun
ting sense of fear; and nowthat they had taken her from the busy town to their quiet sea-sidehome, where summer after summer she had danced about in innocent glee,the dread deepened as the days went by and she felt no sign ofreturning strength to her feeble frame. There was no need to tell thesad tidings after all, however--she had found out for herself; and thenecessary part now was to teach her how to live bravely and cheerfullythrough the long, long years.

  Edith's thoughts were very dreary as she walked quietly through thelittle sea-side village, and saw the happy, sun-kissed children, fullof health and strength, playing on the sandy shore, and shouting theirlusty laughter to each other, while one who would have joined soheartily in their merriment was lying pale and weary on a lonely couchof pain. The little wistful face and tired eyes kept ever rising upbefore her, while the words rang continually in her ears,--"How shall Ilive through the long, long years?"

  With a quick impatient movement she drew out her watch, and noting thehour, saw that the mail had been due some little time ago, and letterswould be lying at the small post-office. Entering the little shop, shefound another occupant besides herself preparing to receive a smallbudget of papers from the shopwoman's hands.

  "No letters to-day, Miss Latimer; only these papers," the girl wassaying as Edith stepped towards the counter.--"Good-morning, MissBlake; we are glad to see you amongst us again."

  The lady started at Edith's name, and turning, looked earnestly at thegraceful figure from under the brim of a shady hat--a gaze which Edith,busy with her own thoughts, failed to observe.

  "Three letters for you to-day, miss," the shopwoman continued, "and onewith a foreign post-mark on it. I'm thinking it'll be from MasterDick."

  Edith lifted the letters. "Yes," she said with a bright smile, "youare quite right, Janet. It is addressed to my little sister; howpleased she will be!"

  The girl's eyes saddened. "Is Miss Winnie keeping stronger?" sheinquired in a subdued voice; "we were all so sorry to hear about herillness, dear lamb."

  The young lady shook her head. "Not much, Janet; but of course we haveonly been here a week as yet. We are hoping she will reap the benefitof the sea-air by-and-by. Good-morning." And Edith, gathering herletters together, left the shop and turned slowly in the direction ofhome. In a few minutes she heard rapid footsteps behind her, and alow, sweet voice said gently, "May I be pardoned for addressing MissBlake?"

  Raising her eyes in surprise, Edith saw the stranger lady close at herside, looking very much agitated.

  "Certainly!" she replied courteously. "Can I assist you in any way?"And the stranger replied--

  "I do not know whether you will ever have heard Winnie speak of me ornot. My name is Latimer, and your little sister was a great friend ofmy niece. They were always together at school, and Winnie spent twoafternoons with us when we were in town, I--"

  But she was allowed to proceed no further, for Edith stood holding outher hands, and saying with shining countenance, "You are Aunt Judith,are you not? I am so pleased to have met you, Miss Latimer. My littlesister is very ill. Will you come and see her now?"

  Miss Latimer looked perplexed. "I am staying here at present," shesaid simply, "and intend remaining till the end of August; this airseems so beneficial to my invalid sister. I hardly know how to replyto your invitation, Miss Blake. I never knew till the other day aboutWinnie's accident, and I should dearly like to see the child; butstill--"

  "Please do not finish your sentence, Miss Latimer," replied Edith,blushing with confusion. "We owe you an ample apology for ourrudeness, and both my father and mother will be only too delighted tosee you. Winnie has been calling for you continually, and my brotherwent to Dingle Cottage, but found you out of town."

  "Yes," said Miss Latimer; "the doctor advised us to come here onaccount of my youngest sister. Nellie was with us during the month ofJune, but has gone home till we return to town. I thank you for yourkindness, Miss Blake, and will call at your house to-morrow. I amsorry I cannot accompany you this afternoon."

  Edith looked up at the true, noble face, shaded by the simple summerhat; and as she did so, a slow, sweet smile broke over Aunt Judith'slips and lighted up her whole countenance.

  "No wonder Winnie loved her!" thought the gay, fashionable girl. "Ifeel as if I could kneel in all reverence at her feet, she looks sogood and pure." But she only said aloud,--"Then I shall expect youto-morrow afternoon, Miss Latimer. Our house is easily found. Youwill see the name, Maple Bank, on the gate. Please do not disappointus; and oh! I am so glad I have met you at last."

  So they parted, and Edith stepped homewards with a lightened heart.

  Mr. and Mrs. Blake received her news quietly. They would rather theintimacy had not been renewed, but for Winnie's sake no oppositionwould be made now. They would find out Miss Latimer's present home,and call on her that evening. As for telling Winnie, it might bebetter, perhaps, to keep her still in ignorance till the following day.

  Clare alone turned up her haughty nose when Edith related the morning'sadventure, and inquired if she too were becoming infected with theLatimer mania. "For my part," concluded the proud girl, "I think ourparents very foolish--encouraging Winnie in all her whims and fancies.There will be no end to them soon. I am very sorry for the child, butI still decidedly disapprove of giving in to her continually. I shouldnot be surprised if this wonderful Aunt Judith becomes a daily visitorbefore long. However, I wash my hands of the whole affair." Andlifting a book, Clare passed out through the window into the garden;while Edith, disgusted at the cruel words, went slowly upstairs, andplaced Dick's precious letter in Winnie's hands.

  It was a wonderful epistle, spiced with grand nautical phrases, andbrimful of the truly marvellous and incredible in nature. Winnielaughed heartily over the absurd yarns, described with sailor-likeveracity, and then gave a little cry of joy when Edith, who was readingthe letter aloud, ended with the following words:--"And now, my dearlittle Win, if we have favourable weather you may expect to see yourdear old Dick home about the end of September; and won't we have ajolly time of it then! No end of larks and mischief. I suppose youwill still be at Maple Bank when my ship comes in, so" (here Edithstopped, but the child bade her read every single word) "see and keepwell and strong, that you may be able to enjoy all sorts of caperswith--Your loving sailor brother, DICK."

  "Don't look at me like that, Edith," said Winnie, when the long letterwas carefully folded up and returned to its envelope. "I am not goingto cry or even think; my heart is too sore. No one must tell Dick tillhe comes home. Let him remain in ignorance as long as possible." Thenshe closed her eyes wearily and remained silent. But Edith was not tobe deceived by any apparent calmness or resignation, and knew only toowell that the child's whole soul was crying out in rebellion at the sadtrial which had befallen her.

  Daylight stole softly, silently away; the summer breeze sighing adreamy even-song through the forest trees, lulled the singing birds torest; the little flowers drooped their pretty heads, and closed theirdewy petals in slumber; the busy whirr and hum of insects ceased,--andthe nature-world was hushed in sleep. Only the restless sea broke onthe peaceful calm with its ceaseless swish-swish of waves. And far,far out on the ocean breast, leaning over the bulwark of a gallantship, homeward bound, was a young sailor, gazing across the moonlitwaters, and thinking of the bright fairy sister waiting to give him ajoyous welcome back.