第126章 CHAPTER XXVIII(5)

Thus,during the whole of the day,had he been the stay and consolation of the household.For himself--the father's grief was altogether dumb.

At last Mrs.Halifax became more composed.She sat beside her husband,her hand in his,neither speaking,but gazing,as it were,into the face of this their great sorrow,and from thence up to the face of God.They felt that He could help them to bear it;ay,or anything else that it was His will to send--if they might thus bear it,together.

We all three sat thus,and there had not been a sound in the parlour for ever so long,when Mrs.Tod opened the door and beckoned me.

"He will come in--he's crazy-like,poor fellow!He has only just heard--"She broke off with a sob.Lord Ravenel pushed her aside and stood at the door.We had not seen him since the day of that innocent jest about his "falling in love"with Muriel.Seeing us all so quiet,and the parlour looking as it always did when he used to come of evenings--the young man drew back,amazed.

"It is not true!No,it could not be true!"he muttered.

"It is true,"said the father."Come in."

The mother held out her hand to him."Yes,come in.You were very fond of--"Ah!that name!--now nothing but a name!For a little while we all wept sore.

Then we told him--it was Ursula who did it chiefly--all particulars about our darling.She told him,but calmly,as became one on whom had fallen the utmost sorrow and crowning consecration of motherhood--that of yielding up her child,a portion of her own being,to the corruption of the grave--of resigning the life which out of her own life had been created,unto the Creator of all.

Surely,distinct and peculiar from every other grief,every other renunciation,must be that of a woman who is thus chosen to give her very flesh and blood,the fruit of her own womb,unto the Lord!

This dignity,this sanctity,seemed gradually to fall upon the mourning mother,as she talked about her lost one;repeating often--"I tell you this,because you were so fond of Muriel."He listened silently.At length he said,"I want to see Muriel."The mother lit a candle,and he followed her up-stairs.

Just the same homely room--half-bedchamber,half-nursery--the same little curtainless bed where,for a week past,we had been accustomed to see the wasted figure and small pale face lying,in smiling quietude,all day long.

It lay there still.In it,and in the room,was hardly any change.

One of Walter's playthings was in a corner of the window-sill,and on the chest of drawers stood the nosegay of Christmas roses which Guy had brought for his sister yesterday morning.Nay,her shawl--a white,soft,furry shawl,that she was fond of wearing--remained still hanging up behind the door.One could almost fancy the little maid had just been said "good-night"to,and left to dream the childish dreams on her nursery pillow,where the small head rested so peacefully,with that pretty babyish nightcap tied over the pretty curls.

There she was,the child who had gone out of the number of our children--our earthly children--for ever.

Her mother sat down at the side of the bed,her father at its foot,looking at her.Lord Ravenel stood by,motionless;then stooping down,he kissed the small marble hand.

"Good-bye,good-bye,my little Muriel!"

And he left the room abruptly,in such an anguish of grief that the mother rose and followed him.

John went to the door and locked it,almost with a sort of impatience;then came back and stood by his darling,alone.Me he never saw--no,nor anything in the world except that little face,even in death so strangely like his own.The face which had been for eleven years the joy of his heart,the very apple of his eye.

For a long time he remained gazing,in a stupor of silence;then,sinking on his knee,he stretched out his arms across the bed,with a bitter cry:

"Come back to me,my darling,my first-born!Come back to me,Muriel,my little daughter--my own little daughter!"But thou wert with the angels,Muriel--Muriel!