Paul went up to the bed, cold, trembling with his emotions. He gazed in anguish on the altered features of one whose love he had so ill repaid. Mrs. Fane lay unconscious of all that passed—unconscious of the bitter tears shed by her sons. She no longer could rejoice in the affection of the one, or be stung by the neglect of the other. Oh! what would not Paul have given, as he hung over her now, for one forgiving look from those closed eyes! What would he not have given to have heard those pale lips speak, even though it had been but to chide! But his grief and his fears now came too late—his mother never spoke again!
In a few days both the boys stood by the open grave, and no one who had seen the sorrow of both, without being aware of the former circumstances of their lives, would have known what different recollections filled their hearts—like poison in the bleeding wound of one, soothing balm in that of his brother! “My last act towards my mother was that of disobedience—her last feeling towards me was of displeasure and pain! I clouded, perhaps I shortened her life; and the anger of my God is upon me!” Such were the thoughts of Paul—his agonizing thoughts—as he heard the earth fall on the coffin of her who had loved him best upon earth. But not for untold wealth would Harry have exchanged the remembrance of his parent’s last fond look, her last sweet words to him. “Harry, you are my comfort!” sounded in his ears as though an angel had repeated it to the mourner.
THE FUNERAL.
And not then alone, but when time had softened his sorrow—yes, even through the long course of his honoured, useful life, if care weighed on his heart, he thought of those words, and they lightened his burden of care; when joy elated his spirit, they yet brightened that joy—his mother’s blessing seemed for ever resting upon him! Honour thy father and mother: that thy days may be long upon the land which the Lord thy God giveth thee. A wise son maketh a glad father: but a foolish man despiseth his mother.
He makes his mother sad,
The proud, unruly child,
Who will not brook
Her warning look,
Nor hear her counsels mild.