How nearly they approach their journey’s end!’
CHAPTER X
A.D. 1864-1866
A HEAVY SHADOW
The afternoon shadows were again to darken around Charlotte Tucker; and one blow after another had to fall. Her mother was growing old, and in no long time would be called away. The health of her gentle sister, Fanny, had begun to fail, never to be entirely restored. But a yet sharper sorrow, because utterly unlooked for, was to come before the loss of either her mother or her sister, like a flash of lightning into the midst of clear sunshine.
Of all the many whom she dearly loved, none perhaps lay closer to her heart than Letitia, the only daughter of her brother Robert,—the youngest of ‘the Robins.’ The two boys were now out in the world, one in India, one at sea; but Letitia hitherto had never left her, except for visits here or there among relatives and friends. One who knew them both well describes the contrast between aunt and niece at this period,—Charlotte Tucker, ‘so upright and animated, very thin, fair, with auburn hair, not very abundant, but which curled slightly, naturally,’—and Letitia, ‘grave, with beautiful dark eyes and hair, and rather dark complexion.’ Another speaks of Letitia as tall and handsome, with dark eyes, dark chestnut hair, regular features, and sweet smile.
The gravity seems to have been a marked characteristic of this gifted young girl. From very babyhood she was earnestly religious, and of a peculiarly serious temperament; though at the same time energetic and sometimes even lively. She had not her aunt’s spirit of fun; but the two were alike in generosity and in determination. Perhaps Charlotte Tucker’s training had especially developed these traits in her niece. A favourite proverb of Letitia’s was—‘Perseverance conquers difficulties’;—and it would have served equally well for A. L. O. E.
Letitia was also very fond of little children, and she worked much among the poor. She was an exceedingly good and fearless rider; and at twenty years old there was already promise of a literary gift. Her passion for reading was so great that Hallam’s History was a recreation in her eyes. She had written at least one short story, which had found its way into print, and many pretty, simple verses, chiefly of a religious character. One of her hymns, composed at the age of eighteen, may be given here:—
‘My soul was dark, for o’er its sight
The shades of sorrow fell;—