“Oh, I have no father that I may see and hear—none, that is, on earth; but I love Him, for He smiles on me, through the sweet flowers, and sparkling brooks, and beautiful trees; and I know He loves me and cares for me, deaf and dumb and afflicted as I am, and he hears me when I ask him to bless me and my sweet sister, and reward her for all she does for me. He is up—up there, and all around.” He stretched out his arms, pointing to the star-lit heavens and beautiful earth. “My Father’s house is everywhere; and when my body lies here, as my mother’s does, my breath will go up to Him, and Aréli will be so happy—so happy!”
“Thy mother!” burst from the stranger’s lips, as though the child could hear him; and his hand so trembled that he could hardly guide the steel pencil which traced the word “Who is thy mother—where does she lie?”
Aréli laid his hand on the tomb, pointing to the name of Rachel Castello, there simply engraved. The effect almost terrified him. The stranger caught him in his arms—he pressed repeated kisses on his cheek, his brow, his lips—clasping him, as if to release him were death. The child returned his caresses without either impatience or dissatisfaction. After a while the stranger again wrote—
“Thy sister, sweet boy—is it she who hath taught thee these things—doth she live—is she happy?”
“Oh, so happy! and Imri, kind Imri, will make her happier still. Aréli loves him next to Josephine, and grandfather and I am to live with them, and we are all happy. Oh, how I love Josephine! I should have been so sad—so sad, had she not loved me, taught me all; but come to her—she will make thee happy too, and thou wilt weep no more. The evening meal waits for us both—wilt thou not come? Josephine will love thee, for thou lovest Aréli.”
A deep agonized groan escaped from the stranger, vibrating through his whole frame. Several minutes passed ere he could make reply, and then he merely wrote, in almost illegible characters—
“I am not good enough to go with you, my child. Pray for me—love me; I shall remember thee.”
And then again he folded him in his arms, kissed him passionately, and disappeared in the gloom, ere Aréli could detain him or perceive his path, though he sprang forward to do so.
The child watered his flowers more hastily than usual, evidently preoccupied by some new train of thought, which was shown by a rapid return to his grandfather’s cottage, and an animated recital, through signs and his tablets, of all that had occurred, adding an earnest entreaty to Imri to seek and find him.
Josephine started from the table—the rich glow of her cheek faded into a deathlike paleness, and, without uttering a syllable, she threw her mantle around her and hastily advanced to the door. Imri and even the aged Josef threw themselves before her.