They were heavily underlined. In the broad margin was written in a tremulous hand which displayed the effects of illness,
“My darling little daughter–
–live these lines. Elinor Dale.”
A vast tenderness enfolded the girl. She reread the lines. “My mother is telling me how to live,” she whispered. “Her voice is calling to me through all the years–the only time.” She touched her lips impulsively to the place where the cherished hand had rested and then, clasping the book to her breast, she closed her eyes and remained so for awhile. When her lids raised anew, the blue eyes were filled with a great yearning as she breathed softly and reverently as if in prayer, “Yes, mother.”
A little later, Virginia entered the house and Serena told her, “Ah done lay out yo’all’s clothes, honey chil’. Ef you want anythin’ else jes yell.”
The girl dreamily climbed the broad staircase. At the bend she remembered something, and, turning back, smiled down at the old colored woman below. “Thank you, Serena,” she called.
Amply rewarded, the faithful servant contentedly busied herself once more with the affairs of the Dale household. From that far away day when she had, “’cided ah gwine foller Miss Elinor to de no’th,” she had been recognized by well informed persons as one in authority in that home.
It was Serena who first held Virginia in her arms and tenderly rocked the squirming red mite across her ample bosom. During those long days and nights of watching in the last illness of Elinor Dale, it was Serena who, with undisguised distrust of the trained nurse, was in and out of the sick room almost every hour. It was Serena who closed Elinor Dale’s eyes, and it was Serena who held the motherless child with great tears rolling down her black face as she stood by the open grave.
No formal agreement held Serena after the death of her mistress. She saw the home as a storm tossed craft, from whose deck the navigator had been swept, drifting aimlessly upon the sea of domesticity. Unhesitatingly, she had assumed the vacant command which carried with it the mothering of Virginia.
In the early months of his bereavement, Obadiah Dale gave some attention to the establishment which he had created for his wife’s enjoyment. Yet all things followed a well managed routine and, more important than all to a man of his nature, the monthly bills evidenced economical judgment. Quick to recognize a valuable subordinate, Obadiah saw no necessity for immediate change.