"Judging from the style of your accusations against her this morning, you did not then consider her so innocent or harmless," rejoined Aunt Rossiter, smiling, and with intent, I knew, to check further questioning on his part. It instantly took the desired effect.
"Ah, that's true enough!" he exclaimed, savagely. "I'd forgot that, I had. No, it's not always, nor maybe never, for the matter of that, the most innocent-looking things are the safest. I knowed a-many flowers up country as soft and pure to see as she be," nodding his shaggy head at me, "and yet they was as full of poison as they could hold—ay, that they was!" and with another defiant glance, that seemed to dare me to do my worst, he strode on his way.
I longed to ask Aunt Rossiter whether she was very ill, whether the doctor had said she would die soon; but besides that the mere uttering such woeful words made me shrink, I dreaded her answer. I felt if she told me, "Yes, in all human probability she must leave us speedily," I could not bear it.
Once more she came to my assistance. Again putting her arm around my waist and drawing me close to her, she said, in her usual cheerful, heart-comforting voice: "It does not follow, my precious child, that because my disease is mortal it will in consequence be brief. Under the blessing of the Almighty, human skill and care may keep me with my beloved on earth much longer than I think. Trust in the mercy and wisdom of our heavenly Father, therefore, my little daughter; pray for me, pray that he will, if he sees good—only on that condition—permit me to remain amongst you yet a while."
I could only kiss her fondly; I could not speak. "Oh," thought I, "if prayers and entreaties to heaven, if love and care and skill can obtain it, will we not try!"
If only a few days ago sweet, gentle aunty had uttered such uncertain words, how sad and comfortless would they have sounded to my then all-confident soul! but now they came as a bright flash of hope piercing the gloom which enveloped my heart, like an indefinite reprieve to one condemned to execution. One of the wisest, most merciful arrangements of Nature is that gradual advance toward the completion of her works, and not the least so among them is the ready buoyancy of youth—that happy tendency, the result of the ignorance of inexperience, to turn away from the shadowed to the sunny side of life's path. Were it otherwise, were distress and grief to cling to us in the springtime of our existence as in its autumn, alas! how aged should we prematurely become! How soon would the winter of life settle down upon our heads and heart—ay, before the sunshine has even come.
From that day forward, my first, my ever-anxious prayer was for our beloved protectress, my constant thought and care to promote her comfort and guard her from every breath of harm. And as time went on, bringing with it a perceptible change for the better in her general health, so my spirit lightened of its load of solicitude. Albeit I was conscious that the sorrow of that day had cast a shadow between my heart and its before unreflecting joyousness which neither event nor time could remove, yet it was a merciful lesson, teaching my inexperienced soul the uncertainty of all human happiness, teaching me that in the midst of life—ay, the brightest, the most seemingly blessed and prosperous life—we are in death. Ah, boast not thyself of to-morrow, for thou knowest not what a day may bring forth!