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Page 30
"Mrs. Stanhope," he said, and his tones were very tender, "I can do
nothing. Your little girl is gone. I will send my wife to you."
Mrs. Stein came, but her words brought no comfort to the bereaved
mother. She heard nothing; she saw nothing but the quiet little form
that lay lifeless before her. When Mrs. Stein was convinced that she
could be of no use to her, she went across the room to Elsli, who sat
weeping on the footstool by the window, and taking her by the hand, she
led her out of the room, saying gently:--
"Now it is best for you to go home, my dear. We will not forget you, and
remember that our Father in heaven never forgets his children. Think how
well and happy Nora is! She will never be ill again, in that land where
the weary are at rest."
"If she had only taken me with her," moaned poor Elsli, and when Mrs.
Stein left her, as their ways parted, she could hear the sobbing child
for a long time as she slowly walked, with her apron over her eyes,
along the lane that led to her home.
At home, Mrs. Stein found the children grouped about their aunt, who was
telling them about Nora. Fred had many questions to ask about death, and
how people can die and come to life again. Emma was much depressed, for
she felt, now that it was too late, that she had not done anything to
make Nora's illness more cheerful.
That evening Mrs. Stein and her sister were full of anxious thought.
They felt keen sympathy with the sorrowing mother at Oak-ridge, and they
talked a great deal about the blow that had fallen upon poor little
Elsli. She had not only lost a friend whose companionship had brought
her new life, but she must now go back to the hard and uncongenial labor
from which she had had a brief and blessed respite. Fani too, the only
bright spot in her dark lot, was away now, and who could tell when she
would have him again? Indeed, Fani's fate was also a source of anxiety,
especially on account of Emma's share in his disappearance. Would all
turn out right for the boy? Would he get a suitable education, and what
sort of a future lay before him? The information they had obtained from
Basel had not proved perfectly satisfactory. The scene-painter had, to
be sure, taken Fani into his service, but the boy had nothing to do with
the painting but to clean up the brushes and palettes, and grind the
colors; and, although he had his board and lodging from his master, he
must pay for his clothes himself. It was not a very promising outlook
for Fani. His parents were willing to have him stay away from home, but
they expected him at least to support himself, if not to send them some
money occasionally. Mrs. Stein could not decide what ought to be done,
and all this new care would have been a very heavy burden to bear, if
her sister had not lightened it by her sympathy and encouragement.
Aunty's cheerful spirit always inspired hope and confidence.
* * * * *
The next morning, Emma, with a downcast air, asked leave to take some
flowers over to lay upon the bed by Nora. Her mother was glad to let her
go, and glad too that Fred offered to accompany his sister. The children
were admitted to the house, and shown into the room where Nora lay upon
a snow-white bed; herself as white and cold as marble.
Mrs. Stanhope was kneeling by the bedside, her face buried in the
coverlet. Emma laid her flowers upon the bed, and, with fast flowing
tears, looked upon the peaceful face, and remembered sadly that she had
not done a friendly act for the little invalid, nor helped to wile away
her lonely hours. She left the room sorry and ashamed, regretting her
selfishness, when it was too late to do any good.
A little while after, Mrs, Stein came softly into the quiet room. Mrs.
Stanhope raised her head, and, as she returned the kindly greeting, her
grief broke out, and she exclaimed with sobs:--
"Oh, if you knew how miserable I am! Why--ah, why! does God take from me
my only child? Fortune and lands, everything else he might have taken,
if he would only have left me my child! This is the very hardest fate
that could have befallen me! Why must I suffer more than any one else in
the world?"
"Dear Mrs. Stanhope," said the doctor's wife, as she took the poor
lady's hand and pressed it tenderly in her own; "I feel for your sorrow,
but I beg you to think of what your child has gained. God has taken her
to himself, and she is free from pain and weariness forevermore, in his
sheltering arms. You do not know what poverty means! Think of the many
mothers who only see their children grow up to hard labor, and suffer
for want of food and clothing. Take the sorrow that God has sent you; do
not try to measure it with that of others; the sorrow that comes to each
seems the heaviest for each to bear. But our Father knows why he has
given each row, and the road he leads us is the one best for us to
follow."
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