The Basket of Flowers

by Christoph von Schmid

CHAPTER X.

A FATHER'S LAST WORDS.

The winter had now set in with threatenings of severity. Already the mountain and valley round about the farm were covered with deep snow. The weakness which old James had been feeling for some time now culminated in a severe illness. Obtaining her father's consent, Mary asked a physician from a neighbouring village to visit him. The doctor came to see James and prescribed for him. Full of foreboding, Mary followed him to the door to ask him if he had any hope of her father's recovery. To this the physician replied that the old man was in no immediate danger, but that he suffered from a disease which would make his recovery as an old man very improbable. It was with difficulty that Mary bore up under the news, and, after the physician had gone, she had a fit of passionate sobbing. For the sake of her father, however, she wiped away her tears, and endeavoured to appear calm before she went to him.

During the succeeding days Mary attended her father with the utmost devotion and loving care. Rarely had he to make his requests known, for his daughter could read in his eyes all that he wanted. Mary spent whole nights by his bedside. If at any time she consented to be relieved for a little rest, it was but rarely that she could close her eyes. If her father coughed, she trembled with apprehension; if he made the least stir, she immediately approached him softly and on tiptoe to know how he was. She prepared and brought to him in the most delicate forms the food which best suited his condition. She arranged his pillows from time to time, read to him, and prayed for him continually. Even when he dozed for a little she would stand by his bed with her hands clasped and her tearful eyes raised to heaven.

Mary had a little money which she had saved from her hard-won earnings. To scrape together this small sum she had often spent half the night in sewing and knitting articles for sale. Now, in her father's illness, she made use of this little store to procure for him everything which she thought would be of any service. Good old James, although occasionally he felt himself a little stronger, was never deceived about his condition, but felt only too sure that he was on his deathbed. The thought had no power to disturb him, and he spoke to his daughter of his approaching death with the greatest serenity.

"Oh," said Mary, crying bitterly, "do not speak thus, my dear father. I cannot bear the thought. What will become of me? Alas, your poor Mary will no longer have any one upon the earth!"

"Do not cry, my dear child," said her father affectionately, holding out his hand to her. "You have a kind Father in heaven who will never forsake you, although your earthly father be taken away from you. I do not feel anxious about the manner in which you will gain a livelihood when I am dead, for the birds easily find their food, and you will find enough to nourish you. God provides for the smallest sparrow; will He not also provide for you? The thought that distresses me," he continued, "is that you will be left alone. Alas, my dear child, you have little idea of the wickedness that is in the world! There will be moments perhaps when you will feel inclined to do evil; moments when you will perhaps yourself be persuaded that sin is not so very wrong. Listen to the advice which I now give you, and let the last words of your dying father be for ever deeply impressed on your heart. Forbid every action, every speech, every thought for which you would have to blush if your father knew. Soon my eyes will be for ever closed, I shall not longer be here to watch over you, but remember you have in heaven a Father whose eye sees everything and reads the secrets of your heart."

After a little while, when he had recovered breath, he continued: "You would not wish by an act of disobedience to hurt the father whom you have on earth; how much more then should you fear to offend your Father which is in heaven? Look at me once more, Mary. Oh, if you ever feel the least inclination to do wrong, think of my pale face and of the tears which wet these sunken cheeks. Come to me, put your hand into mine which will soon fall into dust. Promise me never to forget my words. In the hour of temptation, imagine that you feel this cold hand which you now hold on the border of the grave. My poor child, you cannot see without weeping, my pale and hollow cheeks. But know that everything passes away in this world. There was a time when I had the bloom of health and the fresh colour which you now have. The time will come when you too will be stretched on the bed of death, pale and emaciated, as you now see me, if God does not sooner take you to Himself. The friends of my youth have disappeared like the flowers which have passed away with the spring, and for whose places you seek in vain, like the dew which sparkles for a moment on the flowers and is gone."

The next day James, feeling that his end was near, felt it his duty and delight, though weak in body, to continue his advice to his daughter.