That Eurasian

by Aleph Bey

Then he told me of the farewell, of her standing on the porch, and his going over the down, turning now and then to wave his handkerchief, to which she replied with hers, and at last going over a little hillock, the house was out of sight, when he ran back to the top and saw her still looking. Then the final waving of farewells. He spoke of the almost daily letters full of loving counsels, and then of one from a friend with a black margin, saying that the mother had gone. The tears came freely as he finished his narrative. “Charles,” said he, “I know you will forgive my tears, for I cannot prevent them nor would I, when I think of the loss of such a mother.” I was crying too and could not help saying “Would to God I had such a mother to remember.” After our emotion had subsided, he took down the other photograph. “This,” said he, “is a picture of my affianced, my loved one. She was all my heart and mind could wish. I loved her first because she was so like my dear mother, her very counter-form, and I know had they both lived, my mother, with the love she had for me, would have loved her, we both alike would have been her children, as we are now. She is mine still and I am hers, not until death do part, but forever our hearts are one. I have never failed to look upon these pictures in the morning, and they always say ‘Robert, we are with you, watching over you and will guide you the best we can.’ That is the impression the sight of the pictures have upon me, and whether they do guide directly or not, might be questioned, but indirectly they have greatly influenced my life. Can I go wrong when I think each morning of those two pure spirits watching over me? I trust not willingly.”

I got from this the key of his life and I could interpret many things I had heard and seen. This revelation of his inner life, the secrets of his soul, which he told me he had never mentioned to any one else, had a great effect upon me. To have known such a man, and to have been trusted by him, made me love him more than ever, and further inspired me with a reverence for him.

With all due charity for mankind one cannot but regret that there are so few, really pure, noble upright men in the world whom we can respect and admire. I cannot help asking, if after all the centuries of civilization, has the growth of mankind in purity and honesty, kept pace with the progress in other respects? After this conversation he showed that he felt I was nearer to him than ever before as I knew he was dearer to me. Next to trusting in God is to have a true friend in whom one can confide and feel that all is safe and sacred.

CHAPTER XI.

The years passed with their vacations. One day at school I received an urgent telegram, telling me to come at once as Mr. Percy was very ill. The journey homeward was a sad one. Formerly they were full of joyful anticipation; this was full of grief and fear. He was very ill. He received me warmly and I attended him as an affectionate son would a beloved father. “Charles,” he said, “the end is coming. I am going to them. They are waiting for me. I shall soon be where there is no more sorrow, or parting, or dying any more forever. Be true to my teaching. I tried to do my duty. Pardon my mistakes. Come to me when you have done your work. God bless you my boy. God bless you”—and he was gone. Could my wish have been granted I would have gone with him to where there was no more parting forever more.

The last rites were performed and I was given the place of chief mourner, for all seemed to know how much esteem and love he had for me. Then I felt myself alone in the world; the halcyon days of my life were ended.

He had made his will very carefully, giving the details of his property, and except a few personal articles, including those precious photographs that he reserved for me, all was to be sold and the proceeds, with various stocks, bonds and several bungalows in which he had invested, were placed in the hands of trustees for me until I had reached the age of twenty-four years. Until then I was to receive sufficient funds for my support and I was to finish my school course. So I had money enough, but of what account is money when the heart is breaking?

On the days when I used to receive those blessed letters sadness overwhelmed me. No more letters to come. No more letters to write. This deprivation constantly revived my consciousness of the loss I had sustained, and during all the rest of my school life I could not overcome this terrible feeling.

My school days ended and with great regret I bade good-bye to some of my schoolmates and some of the teachers for they had endeared themselves to me by their kindness.

I was again alone in the world. I did not know that I had even one friend to whom I might turn for advice or comfort. I was conscious that I ought to engage in some profession or employment as other young men were doing, but which and what was the question. If I chose the Civil Service in the Government, it was necessary for me to go to England and pass an examination. I had no friend there, not even an acquaintance, so had no influence, and I learned that influence was everything even to get a chance to offer myself for an examination; so that profession was closed to me.