Natalie; Or, A Gem Among the Sea-Weeds

by Emma V. Hallett

"Mother," said Harry, "I shall never forget your teachings. I shall always hold them sacred in my heart, and wherever I go, in whatever circumstances I am placed, I will be true to you, my mother;" and he pressed a fervent kiss upon the brow of her who was worthy the name.

As Mrs. Grosvenor returned her son's embrace, she felt that perhaps she had said too much; that she had been selfish in wishing to have him always near her; and she observed that he wore an expression of pain, of deep emotion, which he in vain attempted to conceal.

The Sea-flower had rested her head upon her hand, and while her mother had been engaged with Harry, a silent spectator might have wondered to what unseen object those deep oases of love were imparting their purity. The words of Harry had fallen upon her ear,--"I shall see what old Ocean is made of;" shall we follow in the train of her musings? they will lead us not where the fallen tread. On the banks of the still waters of peace, 'neath the willows, whose tears are of innocence, frisk the tender lambs, who taste only of the sweets of the green pasture:--"I shall see what old ocean is made of." Far away in coral dells, where the nymphs of ocean tune their harps in praise to Nature's God, the Sea-flower loves to ramble, as if she had been a child in time long past, and the mysteries of ocean were that childhood's home. Ah, loved one, thou dost not pause to find what 'tis which makes thy heart to beat in unison with the murmuring of the waters! perchance those restless billows are but the echoings of thy soul's desire to breathe that upper air, and breathing, gasp for more, 'Tis not for us to tell thee that bright ones came down, and bore the spirit of her who gave thee life, to that better land, from hence; nor of the dying prayer, "Lord, keep my child," which was caught up by each listening billow, and the supplication, e'er since renewed by the voices of the deep.

Why Mrs. Grosvenor had spoken thus, upon this evening to her son, she could not tell; she felt there was some irresistible power which bade her speak that charge,--"never lose sight of your early instructions, and the prayers of your mother." As she retired early for the night, feeling slightly indisposed, she met the gaze of Harry, which was fixed upon her, attributing its uncommon earnestness to a determination on his part to cherish her words. And he never did forget them But, ah! fond mother, sleep on, take thy rest, and gain strength for the morrow's rising, for thou knowest not of the cup of sorrow which is being prepared for thee.

As Harry sat watching the bright flames as they went crackling up the chimney, his sister came and rested her head upon his shoulder, where they remained, until Sea-flower, reminding him of the lateness of the hour, was about to retire, when her brother threw his arm about her, begging her to remain a little, for, said he, "I shall not always have my dear sister to comfort me."

"To comfort you! Harry, do you, who are always so light-hearted and joyous, need comforting?"

"Ah, pussy, but you can make the happiest heart happier. I was thinking of mother; it is a comfort to me that she has you, Sea-flower, to cheer her lonely hours."

"I think mother is less sad than she has been, for now she is looking forward to the time when father shall come home; and I think she flatters herself that she can dissuade you from going to sea, and then we shall be an unbroken, happy family once more."

Those words! why had they power to make that boy turn pale? Had he not been screened from the bright glow of the fire-light, the Sea-flower must have noticed his agitation, as she looked up for the good-night kiss; he clasped her in his arms for a moment, and then the door closed upon her gentle form.

The old clock in the church tower had struck eleven, and Harry heard the cry of the watch, "all's well." He still stood where he had parted with his sister; as her last footfall upon the stairs died away, and the house was hushed for the night, the plans which he had matured long days ago, for this night's execution, laid fast hold of him. Can it be possible that the boy is about to forget those last words of his mother? No, they are still sounding in his ear; and his promise, "I will not forget the prayers of my mother." But does he consider, in the step which he is about to take, of the arrow which will pierce that mother's heart? He walks the room with a quick tread; he does reflect, and pities his mother from the bottom of his heart, praying that the blow may fall gently; but he has shipped for a voyage in the Nautilus, and this night, at high tide, she will sail.