All this was before the child came. With the coming of that little creature the world changed once more for Grandmother. It was in the early autumn; the cardinal flowers were past, but the St.-John’s-wort was in its bloom of tarnished gold, and the fringed gentian, too, was beginning to open its blue eyes. Anne Peace remembered this, because she had just been out gathering gentians, and was coming home with her hands full of the lovely things, when she saw her mother come to the door of Merion House and wave a white apron. Anne dropped the flowers. “Oh! Rachel!” she said; and came running over. The white apron meant that it was a girl; if it were a boy the blue tablecloth was to be waved.
“Doing well!” said Mother Peace. “Grandmother has the baby in the back chamber; you can see it, if you like, Anne, only go quiet.”
As if Anne were ever anything but quiet! Noiselessly she sped up the back stairs, and opened the door of the little bedchamber. There she saw—Madonna!
Grandmother was sitting in a low rocking-chair, with the baby in her arms, bending over it with eyes of worship.
“Hush, Annie!” she said softly. “Come and see a piece of heaven!”
Anne thought the heaven was in Grandmother’s face; she never saw, she said, such an angel look. She came nearer, and looked at the tiny creature nestling in its blankets. One little pink fist was waving feebly. Grandmother lifted it and laid it against her cheek.
“Little velvet rose-leaf!” she murmured. “Look, Anne! see the perfectness of this! The little pink pearls of nails, the tiny precious thumbkin. Oh, wonderful, wonderful! How good God is, to let us begin in this heavenly way. How can we ever be anything but good and lovely, when we begin like this?”
“Some of us can’t,” said little Anne shyly. “She is a darling, Grandmother. Has Rachel seen her?”
A shade passed over Grandmother’s rapt face. “Not yet!” she said. “She ought to. If you see your mother, Anne, you might tell her that baby is washed and dressed. Darling, your gown should be made of white rose-leaves, shouldn’t it? and you the little blush-rose heart? Oh, little piece of heaven, how could they let you go?”
Anne stole away; looking back at the door, she saw that Grandmother had forgotten her and all the world except the child; again it seemed Mary that she was looking at; Mary in adoration, as she had seen her in an old engraving.