“Oh, my Baltie, my Baltie!” sobbed Jean, slipping into a sitting position and lifting the horse’s head into her lap. “Must you leave me? Must your life end now? I love you so, Baltie, I love you so! You have been so good, so faithful! How can I let you die? how can I?” and with heartbreaking sobs Jean buried her head in the silky forelock as her arms clasped the great head.
Slowly the sunlight which Baltie and Jean so loved crept around and looked into the window of the stall. On a branch just beyond the window a bluebird caroled as though not in all the sunlit world was there sorrow or death.
In the stall Jean sat motionless. Her first impulse had been to rush for aid; but who could aid in this extremity? Instinctively the girl knew it to be the end, and somehow, in her great love for her pet, she did not wish anyone else to intrude upon the moment of his passing. She had no idea of the flight of time. Ten minutes or an hour might have passed without her noting them. Baltie lay perfectly still, his head in her lap, her arms clasping his neck. Gently, sweetly as he had lived, so was Baltie slipping out of the world of sentient creatures. Only the faintest flutter of breath indicated that life lingered. His effort to greet the one he loved seemed to have demanded his last atom of vitality. After a little Jean’s sobs ceased, though tears still fell upon the satiny head. She did not know how long she had been in the stall, when just the softest sigh was breathed from the delicate nostrils, a faint quiver passed over the great frame, and Baltie was at rest forever. Gently as he had lived, so had Baltie died.
Two hours later Mammy came out to the stable in quest of Jean.
[CHAPTER XIV—In the Springtide.]
It is probable that not even those who loved her best realized how Jean had loved the pet which had been her daily companion for nearly four years. The very fact that she had rescued him from a miserable death, nursed and tended him to restored health, had felt his love for her growing with each day, made Baltie nearer and dearer to her than a young, vigorous horse could ever have been.
Baltie was now resting in his lowly bed at the foot of the garden, but Jean did not cease to grieve for him. When Mammy had found her with Baltie’s head in her lap that morning there had been a pathetic little scene—for Mammy loved the old horse as dearly as Jean loved him; but had she been entirely indifferent to him, the fact that her baby loved him would have been enough to exalt him above all other animals in Mammy’s sight. Jean was utterly exhausted by her grief and benumbed from her cramped position when Mammy found her, and the good old soul was genuinely alarmed when she tried to help the child to her feet. Baltie’s weight and her cramped position had completely arrested circulation. In spite of her own grief Mammy lifted Baltie’s head from Jean’s lap, laid it gently upon the straw and then helped the girl up, or tried to, for Jean was too numb to stand.
“Bress Gawd, what comin’ to us nex’?” she cried, half carrying Jean to the house, where Constance met them.
It was hours before Jean could walk unaided, and many days before the girl smiled again. Mrs. Carruth grew troubled, and one afternoon spoke to Hadyn about her.
“I am so distressed about it. She is filled with remorse for having taken Baltie out that night, and that, added to her grief for him, is making the child positively ill. I have done my best to make her understand that Baltie had already lived far beyond a horse’s allotted years, and that very soon he must have come into his long rest, but I seem to make no impression.”