Farewell! And O my mother, dost thou hear?
Farewell! But not to thoughts forever dear.
Farewell, but not to love—but not to thee!
When little Rachel, by her father sent,
Came in to take her lesson the next day,
Behold, no instrument was in the room!
What could it mean? "We must give up," said Linda,
"Our music for a little while. Perhaps
I soon shall have my dear piano back."
Then they went in to see the sufferer.
A smile lit up his face,—a grateful smile,
That lent a beauty even to Disease,
Pale, thin, and hollow-eyed:
"Is not the air
Quite harsh to-day?" he asked. "A searching air."
"So I supposed. I find it hard to breathe.
Dear lady—but you've been a friend indeed!
In my vest-pocket you will find a wallet.
All that I have is in it. Take and use it.
A fellow-workman brought me yesterday
Fifty-two dollars, by my friends subscribed:
Take from it what will pay for coal and rent.
To-morrow some one of my friends will come
To see to what the morrow may require.
You've done so much, dear lady, I refrain
From asking more."—"Ask all that you would have."
"My little Rachel—she will be alone,
All, all alone in this wide, striving world:
An orphan child without a relative!
Could you make interest to have her placed
In some asylum?"—"Do not doubt my zeal
Or my ability to have it done.
And should good fortune come to me, be sure
Rachel shall have a pleasant home in mine."
"That's best of all. Thank you. God help you both.
Now, Rachel, say the little prayer I taught you.
... That was well said. Now kiss me for good night.
That's a dear little girl! I'll tell your mother
How good and diligent and kind you are;
How careful, too, of all your pretty clothes;
And what a nurse you've been,—how true and tender.
Rachel, obey Miss Percival. Be quick
To shun all evil. Fly from heedless playmates.
Close your young eyes on all impurity.
Cast out all naughty thoughts by holy prayer.
Love only what is good. Ah! darling child,
I hoped to shield you up to womanhood,
But God ordains it otherwise. May He
Amid the world's thick perils be your Guide!
There! Do not cry, my darling. All is well.
Sing us some pious hymn, Miss Percival."
And Linda, with wet eyelids, sang these words.
Be of good cheer, O Soul!
Angels are nigh;
Evil can harm thee not,
God hears thy cry.
Into no void shalt thou
Spring from this clay;
His everlasting arm
Shall be thy stay.
Day hides the stars from thee,
Sense hides the heaven
Waiting the contrite soul
That here has striven.
Soon shall the glory dawn
Making earth dim;
Be not disquieted,
Trust thou in Him!
"O, thank you! Every word is true—I know it.
Sense hides it now, but has not always hid.
Remember, Rachel, that I say it here,
Weighing my words: I know it all is true.
God bless you both. I'm very, very happy.
My pain is almost gone. I'll sleep awhile."
Rachel and Linda sat an hour beside him,
Silently watching. Linda then arose
And placed her hand above his heart: 'twas still.
Tranquilly as the day-flower shuts its leaves
And renders up its fragrance to the air,
From the closed mortal senses had he risen.
One day the tempter sat at Linda's ear:
Sat and discoursed—so piously! so wisely!
She held a letter in her hand; a letter
Signed Jonas Fletcher. Jonas was her landlord;
A man of forty—ay, a gentleman;
Kind to his tenants, liberal, forbearing;
Rich and retired from active business;
A member of the Church, but tolerant;
A man sincere, cordial, without a flaw
In habits or in general character;
Of comely person, too, and cheerful presence.
Long had he looked on Linda, and at last
Had studied her intently; knew her ways,
Her daily occupations; whom she saw,
And where she went. He had an interest
Beyond that of the landlord, in his knowledge;
The letter was an offer of his hand.
Of Linda's parentage and history
He nothing knew, and nothing sought to know.
He took her as she was; was well content,
With what he knew, to run all other risks.
The letter was a good one and a frank;
It came to Linda in her pinch of want,
Discouragement, and utter self-distrust.
And thus the tempter spoke and she replied: