Ah! It was a great loss for poor little Beryl, the loss of a mother's love and training.
He felt himself quite unable to answer her question in a way that would be comprehensible to her. The doctrines of Christianity, if grasped by his intellect, were not loved by his heart. He scarcely knew how the words which had suggested her question came to be upon the tombstone. Perhaps the rector had thought it proper that they should be added as a fitting expression of the faith of the deceased.
"The resurrection of the body and the life everlasting." Were they verities to him? He supposed so; he repeated the words as part of his creed whenever he went to church, which was not every Sunday, however. But he could give no precise form to his belief. Beryl's question had made him uncomfortably aware that he too was ignorant, and needed teaching.
Well, he must see to it that the child had a teacher; he would enquire about a governess when he next went to town. He blamed himself now that he had not done so before, for was he not wronging the memory of his gentle wife, if he allowed her child to grow up ignorant and irreligious? Had not some one said that women without religious faith were angels who had lost their wings?
It was a true saying. Not for the world would he have his little Beryl grow up a soulless, selfish woman, like many whom he knew. He would like her to be such a gentle, loving, trustful woman as his dear young wife had been.
Ah, had she been spared to him, he might have been a different sort of man this day.
Beryl made no further attempt to get her question answered. She took little Coral's hand with a protecting tenderness that was almost motherly, as they turned away from the grave, and sadly and quietly walked home together. When they reached the house, the children lingered for a while in the garden, for this was the first spring day, with a glorious warmth in the sunshine and a balmy softness in the air. Primroses and crocuses decked the garden borders; violets nestling in the shade gave their exquisite perfume to the breeze; a few of the hardier ferns were unfurling their delicate fronds, and the fruit-trees against the walls were bursting into blossom. The garden looked a symbol of the joyful resurrection about which Beryl was wondering.
"Shall we go to the end of the garden," said Beryl, "and gather some violets for your mother?"
Coral assented readily, and they were soon busy plucking the fragrant flowers.
When they had gathered all they could find, they went into the garden-house, and Beryl showed Coral the exact spot where she had stood to watch the vessel drifting on to Sheldon Point. So much had happened since that night that it seemed to Beryl a long way off now, and she felt herself a much older and wiser being than the Beryl who had awaited her father's return home with such impatient eagerness.