It was Mrs. Linwood, who took me by the hand and drew me from the seat. It was not Ernest. He had not missed me. He had not feared for me the chill dews of night.
"I do not feel cold," I answered, with a slight shudder.
"Come in," she repeated, leading me to the house with gentle force.
"Not there," I said, shrinking from the open door of the parlor, through which I could see Ernest, with his head leaning on both hands, while his elbows rested on the back of Edith's chair. She was still singing, and the notes of her voice, sweet as they were, like the odor of the night-flowers, had something languishing and oppressive. I hurried by, and ascended the stairs. Mrs. Linwood followed me to the door of my apartment, then taking me by both hands, she looked me full in the face, with a mildly reproachful glance.
"O, Gabriella! if your spirit sink thus early, if you cannot bear the burden you have assumed, in the bright morning hour of love, how will you be able to support it in the sultry noon of life, or in the weariness of its declining day? You are very young,—you have a long pilgrimage before you. If you droop now, where will be the strength to sustain in a later, darker hour?"
"I shall not meet it," I answered, trying in vain to repress the rising sob. "I do not wish a long life, unless it be happier than it now promises to be."
"What! so young, and so hopeless! Where is the strength and vitality of your love? The fervor and steadfastness of your faith? My child, you have borne nothing yet, and you promised to hope all and endure all. Be strong, be patient, be hopeful, and you shall yet reap your reward."
"Alas! my mother, the spirit is willing, but the flesh is weak."
"There is no task appointed to man or woman," she answered, "which may not be performed, through the power of God and the influences of the Holy Spirit. Remember this, my beloved daughter; and remember, too, that the heart which bends will not break. Good-night! We had better not renew this theme. 'Patient continuance in well-doing;' let this be your motto, and if happiness in this world be not your reward, immortality and glory in the next will be yours."
I looked after her as she gently retreated, and as the light glanced on the folds of her silver gray dress, she seemed to me as one of the shining ones revealed in the pilgrim's vision. At that moment her esteem and approbation seemed as precious to me as Ernest's love. I entered my chamber, and sitting down quietly in my beloved recess, repeated over and over again the Christian motto, which the lips of Mrs. Linwood uttered in parting,—"Patient continuance in well-doing."