Dawn of the Morning

by Grace Livingston Hill

Now, indeed, Dawn was wide awake! This, then, was her mother's grave. She verified the dates with her own memory. She traced the letters tenderly with her fingers, she took in the significance of the quotation, and read her mother's story as she had never been told it by any one. Her mind, made keen by suffering, could understand and sympathize. Her young heart ached with longing for the mother who was gone from her. How might they have comforted each other if they could only have been permitted to stay together!

A little later she moved her position and saw that there was a smaller mound beyond her mother's grave, and that the white stone read:

CARROLL MONTGOMERY VAN RENSSELAER,
Aged 2 years and 9 months.
He shall gather the lambs in His arms.

Before this stone Dawn knelt in wonder. Had she, then, had a brother? And how much more of the story was there? Oh, if she had only asked her father more questions! Perhaps some day she would dare to go to him and find out many things. Not now—not till she was older and had forgotten some of the troubles she had borne. Poor child! She knew not that his body had been resting beneath a stately monument these ten days past! Beyond her was her grandfather's stone, and beside it her grandmother's, much older and moss-covered. In the same enclosure were many other Montgomerys who had lived and died. Some of their names she thought she remembered. She sighed wearily, and, going back to her mother's grave, touched the letters of her name gently, as if she would bid them farewell, picked a spray of the blossoming myrtle, and went sadly out into a lonely world again. She could not stay here; it was too sorrowful.

She walked to the next village that afternoon, and took another coach, the first that came along, going she knew not where. When she reached the end of the route the next morning, she took up her walk again, resolving to spend no more money for riding. She did not realize how long she had walked, but some time in the afternoon she came into a familiar region. She could not tell where she was at first, but as she drew near to the village she recognized it as her native town.

At first she was frightened, and stopped by the roadside to think what to do. Then a great longing to see the garden once more, and creep into the old summer-house, came over her. Skirting the woods on the outside of the village, and going around by the saw-mill, she at last came to the hedge at the lower end of her father's garden, and slipped through to the summer-house, as she had wished.

The mansion looked quiet. No one seemed moving about. But, then, it had always seemed that way. She had no fear that any one would discover her, for the hedge was thick and tall, and had not been cut lately. She crept into her old corner in the greenness and quiet. The cushions were there as they used to be, but they looked weather-beaten, as if no one had been there in a long time. She brushed them off, spread her mantle upon them, and lay down. It was very still all about, and she soon slept. Some time in the night she awoke with a feeling of chill and loneliness. It was night, she knew by the darkness, and a sense of something strange and sad brooded in the air. But she was very weary, and soon slept again.

When she awoke again it was late morning. She knew by the sun that the day was well begun, and she was impressed almost immediately by the quietness of her surroundings. There seemed to be no one about. Not a sound came from the house. The bees and the cicadas droned and whetted their hot scythes in the burning day, but otherwise there was a torrid silence.

The little hedged summer-house was not far from the street. It seemed strange to the girl that she heard no one passing. She got up and made herself as tidy as the circumstances allowed, and then stole toward the house, keeping within hiding of the hedges. She had no mind to let any one see her, but a strange fascination led her to look again upon her old home.

The shutters were all staring wide, as if forgotten, and the front door stood open, but no one was about. Dawn wondered if the old servants were still there, but no sound came from the direction of the kitchen. She stole nearer, though her judgment warned her to go away if she did not wish to be seen and recognized. A power stronger than she realized seemed drawing her on.