Morning and evening she kneels in church, and, like Anna, serves the Lord with fastings and with prayers. There she takes up the cross in the morning, bears it through the day, and returns at night to give thanks, and press it to her bosom with all its thorns and all its sharpness.
Is she happy? I have studied her face; I have watched her life; I have seen her pray by a death-bed; I have heard her sing to herself as she sat at work in her room; I have seen her play with joyous children; I have seen her weave garlands of bright flowers, but then I saw her lay them on a grave—and I dare not say she is happy; but I know she is of those who, if they mourn, shall be comforted; who, if they sow in tears, shall reap in joy; and I remember that a sword pierced through the soul of her whom all generations call blessed.
There is a man who goes every day to the same church, who sometimes supports an aged woman, and leads her gently to the bench where Alice sits; who kneels himself at a distance, and listens to the sound of her voice, as she utters the responses. This is Robert Harding; he visits the poor she visits; he hears the blessings they pour upon her; he talks of her to Mrs. Tracy; and he hopes that the time will come, when he may conceal his love so well, that she will speak to him familiarly again, as in the days of their childhood.
As time went by, its soothing effect told upon these mourners; those sorrows which had at first driven them to solitude as a refuse, when their acuteness was past, drew them together again. That mute sympathy which the heart can scarcely value during the first bitterness of its grief, became to each of them a source of consolation. Mrs. Middleton was to Edward and to Alice an object of tender solicitude. How often he felt that when they spoke together of things indifferent, or listened to music, or looked upon the beauties of nature, the same thought was in their minds, the same image before their eyes. On these occasions she sometimes pressed his hand in silence, and both felt, without saying it, that their treasure was in Heaven.
In Mrs. Middleton's features, in the tone of her voice, in the expression of her face, Alice found a resemblance to the husband of her youth, which gave her an interest in her eyes which no other human being could have had; and in the tender and earnest affection which united them, both found their highest earthly comfort. They had learnt—one, after striving for it long and vainly,—the other, on the threshold of life,—that happiness is not the portion of earth; but they looked beyond it; and found, in the meantime, that each returning day, even to the deepest mourner, brings new blessings in the shape
"Of perils past, of sins forgiven,
Of thoughts of God, and hopes of Heaven."
THE END.
PRINTED BY BERNH. TAUCHNITZ JUN.
Typographical errors silently corrected: