CHAPTER XXX.
AUNT HENDERSON'S MYSTERY.
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"Oh, the little birds sang east, and the little birds sang west, And I said in underbreath,—All our life is mixed with death, And who knoweth which is best? "Oh, the little birds sang east, and the little birds sang west, And I smiled to think God's greatness flowed around our incompleteness,— Round our restlessness, His rest." Mrs. Browning. |
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"So the dreams depart, So the fading phantoms flee, And the sharp reality Now must act its part." Westwood. |
It was a little after noon of the next day, when Mr. Rushleigh came to Cross Corners.
Faith was lying back, quite pale, and silent—feeling very weak after the terror, excitement, and fatigue she had gone through—in the large easy-chair which had been brought for her into the southeast room. Miss Henderson had been removed from her bed to the sofa here, and the two were keeping each other quiet company. Neither could bear the strain of nerve to dwell long or particularly on the events of the night. The story had been told, as simply as it might be; and the rest and the thankfulness were all they could think of now. So there were deep thoughts and few words between them. On Faith's part, a patient waiting for a trial yet before her.
"It's Mr. Rushleigh, come over to see Miss Faith. Shall I bring him in?" asked Glory, at the door.
"Will you mind it, aunt?" asked Faith.
"I? No," said Miss Henderson. "Will you mind my being here? That's the question. I'd take myself off, without asking, if I could, you know."
"Dear Aunt Faith! There is something I have to say to Mr. Rushleigh which will be very hard to say, but no more so because you will be by to hear it. It is better so. I shall only have to say it once. I am glad you should be with me."