Afflictive dispensations had so often heaped up against the horizon of Alice's affections, frowning, angry clouds; the memory of bier and pall had so cruelly overlaid her young life with its gloom that but for the solace of religion, there would be no refuge from the bitterness of her grief; from the shadows of the grave. But in her mother's chamber, with her mother's precious Bible in her hands, she felt that there was a fountain opened up before her, yes in the very house of David. "Blessed Book! What is life without thee?" she exclaimed. "Is it not a faithful transcript of the last will of our Redeemer? Is it not the key that unlocks the door of Heaven? Yea the guide that elaborates its beauties? 'Eye hath not seen; ear hath not heard; neither hath it entered into the heart of man to conceive of those things which He hath prepared for them that love Him.'" She felt that in the world's tragedy of sin it was indeed a savor of life unto life; that it erects in the human soul, where there is sin, sorrow and despair, a sanitarium; rendering good for evil, giving back pardon for injury; preferring pity to vengeance; kneeling always upon the heights of virtue to uplift the broken-hearted. Whether its blessed truths be spoken in prophecy or narrative; whether whispered from the sepulchre or the crypt; whether thundered from Sinai or Mars Hill; they tenderly lead poor, fallen human nature into the portals of immortality, into the very gate of Heaven. "Has not religion," she asked, "given to humanity an uplifted brow? Has it not admonished man to put away from him every mercenary calculation and to realize that the scourges of sin are rotting whip cords? Ah yes, wherever there is a tear, there is love, wherever anguish there is consolation, whenever the night is dark and starless and there are deep shadows, an angel stands with bowed head and welcoming arms. What a balm for the scarified, bleeding heart! A precious pearl of great price in a casket of exceeding beauty; a sword of ethereal temper that divides unto the sundering of bone and marrow; but there are diamonds upon the hilt and golden tracery upon the scabbard. Ah, the resurrection, who gives this promise, this faith, this hope? In all the dead aeons of dead centuries, science, nature, man, have asked in vain 'If a man die shall he live again?'—But just as in scaling a beautiful mountain, it needs no chemistry to analyze the air, to tell us that it is free from miasma, as every breath which paints a ruddier glow upon the cheek and sends a tonic tide through the body, will tell of its invigorating touch; so it needs no analysis, no reasoning, to persuade a spiritual mind that the air of Heaven, the breath of God is in this book; and just as on Tabor's brow, when from Christ His own glory pierced its callous, unfeeling sides, it needed no refracting prism to tell us that it was the sunburst of more than earthly radiance the pilgrims were gazing upon. So when a Bible chapter is transfigured, when the Holy Spirit transmutes into it his grace and glory, it will require neither a Paley or Shenstone to prove that the power and wisdom of God are there; but radiant with emitted splendor, in God's own light we will see it to be God's own Book, and know it to be His blessed revelation. 'I know that my Redeemer liveth and that in my flesh I shall see God.' The light of faith in the afflicted man of God was burning feebly, but he begins to feel now the strength, the virtue, which lies in innocency, as if God were beginning to reveal Himself within him. He heeds no longer the hyper-Calvinist when he tells him, 'Thou has taken a pledge from thy brother for naught, and stripped the naked of their clothing; thou has not given water to the weary, and thou hast withholden bread from the hungry.' He raises his finger as if he would command attention and exclaims, not in irony, but in tranquil self-possession, 'God forbid that I should justify you; till I die, I will not remove my integrity from me. My righteousness I will not let go. My heart shall not reproach me so long as I live.'
"Pictorial scriptures, truly, comprehending all manners, all conditions, all countries. Egypt with the Nile and the Pyramids, the nomad Arabs, the bewildered caravans, the heat of the tropics, the ice of the north, are there; all save the frozen heart of Jewish traditions and ceremonials. How divinely transfigured every page of the precious Book, wherein is life eternal!"
In the great voiceless halls and chambers there was no sound but her poor, tumultuous heart beating wildly against a bosom sore with weeping. Alas, for ties that are so fragile, for pleasures that are so transitory! Old Clarissa would steal tip-toe to her chamber, but she dared not enter, and would return as softly to the kitchen.
"Po Miss Alice, she do suffer mazin. Pears lak ebery now und den when her eyes gits bright und her face is sunny und sweet, und her lafter is lak de ripplin ob de little brook in de medder, dat de good Lord draps anudder drug in de cup und maks her drink ebery drap. Dere aint a gwine to be no mo sorrer for Miss Alice now; yung Mars Harry is gon, und missis is gon, und ole marser is gon, und bimeby her eyes is agwine to git bright agin, und her purty solemcholly face is er gwine to be full of smiles, und de little birds is ergwine to hang dere heads und drap to sleep when she sings dem lubly ole fashined himes agin."
The poor girl finally fell asleep. It was the only anodyne that nature had in her laboratory for a broken heart; and she slept as tranquilly as a little child. She awoke refreshed by dreams, peopled by friends of her early childhood, many of whom were living and happy. She went into the kitchen, to give directions to Clarissa, whom she found at her accustomed labor. Crushed and spiritless as she was, there was comfort for her in the broken, incoherent utterances of the old negro.
"Don't cry no mo," said Clarissa quite sympathetically. "I used to heer ole missis say when she was ailin monstrous bad, dat ebery cloud had a silver linin, und I beliebs it pine plank. I beliebs dat when de good Lord sends trouble on dis here lan He's ergwine ter sen grace too. Dat's my belief, yung misses, und I'm ergwine to lib by it und I'm ergwine to die by it. When I looked down into ole marser's grave and seed all dem lilies ob de walley kivered up in de dirt, I node de good Lord was not ergwine to mommuck up ole marser's soul fur nuthin. I node dere wuz ergwine to be a transplantin in His hebenly garden of all de beautifullest flowers dat withers and parishes here in dese low grouns oh sorror, und I sez to mysef, dat I specks ole missis is er runnin ter meet ole marser dis bery minit, wid boff hans chock full ob white roses und jonquils und lilies ob de walley. Duz yer kno what I beliebs, Miss Alice?" she continued, as she wiped her eyes in her old checked apron. "When I sees a little white flower er droopin und er dying in ole missis' garden, I nose dat she hez cum down fru de purly gates to pull it und tak it back in her busum to yung Mars Harry; und when I sees a little teensy baby a droopin und er dyin jest lak dat little flower, I nose de good Lawd is er takin it home in His busum too. Wun ob dese days yu und me is agwine ter see fur oursefs. Bress de Lawd!"
The days were passing now so languidly, and wretchedness was still brooding in the heart of Alice. To one event, however, she looked forward with intense yearnings. There was somewhere in the wide, wide world a great sympathetic heart perpetually telegraphing its love, and she was feeling the electric current in its pulsations every moment in the day. He had promised to come again in the mellow, fragrant month of October, before the flowers fade and die; when the artist of nature is painting the foliage upon the trees green, purple and golden, and with a richer iris the twilight sky, and dappling the fleecy clouds. Yes, he is coming, not as the judge of the assizes, but as a prisoner of hope. Her affections hitherto were divided—now he yearns for the whole heart. Coming to endow her with a treasure selfishly coveted above rubies and diamonds, above principalities and thrones; coming to plight his troth at God's altar, that in sickness and in health they would cling to one another till death doth part them.
How would Alice appear in her funereal robes before him, before the altar? Perhaps Clarissa can reassure her in this dilemma.
"Miss Alice," she exclaimed as she clapped her hands approvingly, "If yer is as butiful when the jedge cums as yer is now, dat er po man is ergwine stracted wid hissef. I clare fore my blessed Marster up yander if I had er node how butiful yer is agwine ter look in dat black mourning, I wuld er swaded yer to dun und dun it fore ole marsa died." And what is going to become of Clarissa and Ned? The mildew of age is upon them both. For years past their old heads have been whitening with the hoar frost. "Now ole marsa is dun und gon, de fambly is ergwine to break up und de grate house is agwine to be the home of de owls, und de swallers und de bull-bats." So thought Clarissa as in the quiet gloaming she stood in the verandah, and listened to the melancholy winds and the more melancholy bleating of the cattle. Ned had been doing little chores about the house all the day, and after he had eaten his supper, he and Clarissa had by permission assembled in the dining-room where they found their young mistress engaged in some light needle work. She of course welcomed the negroes heartily. They were her friends and had been through many sore trials.
Clarissa was the first to break the silence, as she enquired of her young mistress the day of the month.