Read Ebook: Amy Herbert by Sewell Elizabeth Missing

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Ebook has 483 lines and 29029 words, and 10 pages

For a moment Emily could not answer; and then, recovering herself, she said, "If God should make you die, my darling, He will take you to heaven; and you will live with Him, and with Jesus Christ, and the holy angels. You will not be afraid?"

"Must I go alone?" continued Rose. "You always said you would be with me everywhere."

"It is not God's will," replied Emily. "I must not go with you now, but I will pray that I may follow you by and by. And He will watch over you, and love you much more than I can; and you will be so happy, so very happy, you will never wish to return back again."

"Then you will come soon, and mamma, and papa, and all," murmured Rose, whilst her head sank, and her eyes closed.

Emily, in alarm, was about to ring the bell, when she again opened them. "Don't go," she said, feebly clasping Emily's hand. "It is all dark. Why will not mamma come?"

"She will be here directly, I hope," replied Emily. "But it is not really dark; and God is near, and the angels, though you cannot see them."

A second time Rose closed her eyes, and appeared to be repeating something to herself. Emily gently withdrew her hand, and going to the other side of the room, she rang to summon Morris. Rose looked at her as she stood again by her side, but scarcely seemed to know her, till Emily placed her hand on hers; and then, with an effort, she said, "am I naughty? Indeed I cannot remember it."

"Remember what?" asked Emily, anxiously endeavouring to catch the reply.

"Say it, say it," murmured the dying child.

Emily bent still closer, and heard the words--"Our Father, which art in heaven," though they were so faint as hardly to be intelligible. "I will say it for you," she replied, summoning all her self-command to subdue the agony of her feelings; and, kneeling down, she repeated, calmly and distinctly, the holy prayer which Rose had been taught in her earliest infancy, and which was now recurring to her mind, to bless and soothe her death-bed.

Whilst Emily was yet speaking, Mrs Harrington, followed by her husband, who had been alarmed at the sound of the bell, entered the room; but Rose did not appear to notice them. A momentary strength had been granted her, and with a clear though feeble voice, she followed the prayer to the end; and then, stretching out her little hand, she said, "Mamma, it is bright now. They are come to take me." And with a faint smile, as she half repeated Emily's name, her head once more sank upon the pillow, and the innocent spirit was at rest.

It was happy for Emily Morton that the attention which Mrs Harrington's situation demanded, when the fact of her loss forced itself upon her mind, obliged her in some degree to forget the misery of her own feelings. So much was required to be done, that she had no time to realise the vast blank which that one moment had made in her existence; and her chief anxiety now was to prevent Mrs Herbert from being disturbed. This, however, was impossible. She had not, indeed, heard the bell; but she soon learned all that had happened, and went directly to Mrs Harrington's room to entreat that Emily would allow her to take her place, and at least lie down for a few hours herself, even if sleep were, as she feared, out of the question. But Emily's only support was in exertion. To have been left alone in her own chamber, with everything around to remind her of the treasure which had been taken from her, would have been a trial so great that she could not suffer herself to dwell upon it. "I must stay," she said; "it is all I can do; and I do not need rest."

Mrs Herbert looked at her anxiously. "You do not know what you need just now, my dear; but perhaps you are right; only," she added, as she kissed Emily's burning forehead, and observed the trembling of her limbs, "I have felt lately almost as if you were my eldest child; and you must allow me a mother's authority."

Emily could not answer; but Mrs Herbert's affection, even in that hour of bitterness, relieved the oppressive sense of desolation which had before weighed her spirit to the earth; and when again left to herself, she was able to dwell with greater composure upon the scene through which she had just passed, and felt truly thankful that her prayers had been heard, and that strength had been given her to support it.

The morning had dawned before Mrs Harrington was sufficiently recovered to allow of her being left; and while Emily was still lingering, unable to summon resolution to go to her own room, a gentle knock was heard at the door, and Amy's voice asked permission to enter. "Mamma sent me," she said, as calmly as her agitation would allow. "She wishes you so much to go to bed; and we have been getting my room ready for you, that you may be near us, if you want anything. I am to be in mamma's sitting-room, so that no one shall go to you unless you like it."

"You had better go," observed Mrs Harrington, faintly; "you must require rest more than any one. Pray do not stay with me."

Emily hesitated. She thought that, if the effort she dreaded were made at once, the most painful trial would be over. But Amy's pleading look could not be resisted. "It has been my only comfort the last half hour," she continued, "to try and make all nice for you; and poor Dora has been helping me; and Margaret sent her love to you, only she cannot bear to see any one."

"You must go," insisted Mrs Harrington, "If Morris is left with me, I shall not require any one else." And Emily did not wait any longer, for she was beginning to suffer from the effects of all she had undergone.

The room had been so prepared by Amy's thoughtfulness, that it almost looked as if Emily had inhabited it for weeks; and little as she then cared for personal comfort, she yet felt unspeakably relieved by these tokens of affection; for a child's love had lately been so associated with every thought and feeling, that without it there was an aching void in her heart which nothing else could fill.

Her rest, if such it could be called, was short and broken; but in her half-waking intervals. Amy's face came before her with its expression of peaceful innocence, as if to remind her that something was still left in the world to which her affections might cling: and when she arose to the full consciousness of sorrow, her first comfort was the thought that it was God who had ordained her trial, and the second that He had remembered her in her distress, by giving her such friends as she felt Mrs Herbert and Amy to be.

The day passed slowly on, but Emily had neither the power nor the inclination to leave her chamber. She was completely exhausted by the night's fatigue; and Mrs Herbert entreated her on no account to make any exertion, till her strength had been in some degree recruited. There was not much indeed required, for Mrs Harrington had been considerably refreshed by a few hours of sleep, but her spirit was entirely crushed by the blow. She seldom spoke, or paid any attention to what was going on, but sat gazing upon vacancy, or walking up and down the room, unmindful of every effort that was made to rouse her. It was now that Dora's energy and principle were fully called into action. The selfishness which she had sometimes previously shown had been the result rather of education than disposition; and she had lately struggled so much against it, that, at a time when every feeling of sympathy and affection was awakened, it seemed entirely to disappear. She attended upon her mother, and talked to her father, and comforted Margaret, without apparently once consulting her own wishes, though there were moments when the recollection of Rose, or the sight of some book or plaything which had belonged to her, brought such a pang to her heart, that she longed to rush away and give vent to the misery of her feelings alone.

Mrs Herbert would probably have suffered much from her exertions if it had not been for Dora's assistance; but she was able in consequence to spend the afternoon in her own room; and however she might sympathise in the grief of her brother and his family, there was a happiness in the knowledge that her husband was near, which nothing could entirely destroy. Her chief anxiety was for Emily Morton. She knew that the first bitterness of sorrow would in time be diminished, and that even Mrs Harrington would probably soon recover from its present overpowering effects; but to Emily the change it would cause must be lasting. There was but little prospect of her continuing at Emmerton, now that her principal occupation was taken from her; and Mrs Herbert shrunk from the thought of her being sent again amongst strangers, to meet, perhaps, with still greater scorn and neglect than she had yet experienced. She had no home and but few friends, and might, therefore, be compelled to go immediately into another situation, with the recollection of little Rose weighing upon her spirit, and adding tenfold bitterness to the trials she would probably be called on to encounter.

Mrs Herbert was thinking upon this subject, and endeavouring to form some plan for Emily's comfort, when her husband entered. He had been talking with Mr Harrington, and had left him, he hoped, more tranquil and resigned.

"I am not so much afraid for him," said Mrs Herbert, "as for my sister. A person of her disposition can seldom entirely recover from a sudden shock of this nature."

"Perhaps," he replied, "it may not be intended that she should. One hardly likes to think of the reason for which afflictions are sent to others, because one may judge so wrongly; yet a deep, quiet, lasting grief will sometimes, I am sure, win back our hearts to God when everything else has failed."

"Poor Charlotte!" said Mrs Herbert; "it is a bitter discipline. And I never see other people suffer without thinking that I may require it next myself."

"Have you seen Miss Morton lately?" asked Colonel Herbert,

"I am afraid the change this will bring upon her will be greater than upon any one, as far as outward circumstances go."

"Amy has been keeping watch upon her all day, and told me just now she thought that she was trying to sleep again, so I did not like to disturb her; and indeed I have only seen her twice since the morning, and then only for a few minutes, for I saw she required rest and solitude more than anything else."

"She will scarcely remain here now," said Colonel Herbert.

"Her chief employment and interest will be gone. And I suppose she would not be happy even if Mrs Harrington wished her to continue."

"Charlotte will not wish it. She told me a short time since that her principal reason for desiring to keep Miss Morton was on account of little Rose, as Dora and Margaret did not like having her in the house, and she felt herself that the position was an awkward one. She did not choose her to be a companion; and she was not old enough to have any authority."

"And what will become of her?" said Colonel Herbert.

"She will go into another situation as soon as possible; but the difficulty will be to find one that will suit her."

"It will be a miserable life for her, I fear," he continued. "Some people seem born to struggle against the hardships of the world; but she is so very gentle that it appeals as if the smallest unkindness would completely crush her."

"You do not know her," replied Mrs Herbert. "She can never be crushed by anything, not even by the grief which she is now enduring. Her principles are far too high."

Colonel Herbert paced the room thoughtfully for several minutes; and then, suddenly stopping, he said, "Amy is very fond of Miss Morton, I think."

"Yes; and the acquaintance has been of infinite service already. Amy is very quick at discerning character, and notices everything; and I can constantly see how the example of Miss Morton's patience and goodness has strengthened her own right feelings. I quite dread to think of what she will suffer when they are compelled to part."

"Are you quite sure that parting is necessary?" said Colonel Herbert.

"Only as you are quite sure yourself. Miss Morton will not wish to stay, and my sister will not wish to keep her; and of course in such a case she must go."

"Supposing--remember I am not expressing any wish upon the subject--but supposing it were suggested to Miss Morton to return with us to the cottage, and take your place as Amy's governess, would it meet your wishes; and do you think she would like it?"

"Would you really agree to such a plan?" exclaimed Mrs Herbert. "It crossed my own mind once, but I thought it would not please you; and I could not bear to propose anything which it might give you pain to refuse."

"Why should you imagine it would not please me?"

"Because it might interfere with your notions of domestic comfort to have a stranger in the house. And then you cannot feel for Miss Morton as I do."

"But I can feel for her because you do. And with regard to my notions of domestic comfort, I should consider them of very minor importance, even if Miss Morton were not a person to excite such deep interest, when compared with the advantage her assistance would be to you in Amy's education, and the pleasure it would be to Amy to have such a companion. The first thing that gave me the idea, was the knowledge that you required more relaxation than you were likely to give yourself, if you considered that Amy's instruction depended entirely on your own energy."

"I do not think we should repent taking such a step," said Mrs Herbert. "My own feeling for Emily is so sincere that I would make great sacrifices for her comfort if they did not involve yours."

"It would be a very great relief to my mind," said Mrs Herbert. "If you had seen her look of misery last night, you would have felt that it was impossible to rest satisfied till something had been done for her."

"It will not do to decide upon it hastily, though," observed Colonel Herbert. "Situated as we are, having known her family, and having a personal interest in herself, whatever we decided on doing we should be obliged to continue,--I mean that we could not allow her to leave us merely on the ground of its not suiting our convenience that she should remain. It would be cruel, after giving her the idea that we are really her friends, to throw her again upon the mercy of strangers."

"Still," said Mrs Herbert, "I am not really inclined to hesitate; my feelings are decidedly in favour of the plan; though for that very reason I should wish to consider all the possible objections in their strongest light."

"There will be no occasion to decide at once," said Colonel Herbert. "Miss Morton will scarcely be in a state to think of anything for the next few days; and by that time we shall be better able to judge whether there is any serious obstacle in the way--anything that involves a sacrifice of what is right, which, in fact, is all that is really to be considered."

"People would laugh," said Mrs Herbert, "at the idea of its being possible to act wrongly in taking an orphan girl into your family, with the earnest wish of making her happy."

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