"A very sweet, well-mannered girl!" was Miss Wealthy's mental comment, as her eyes rested contentedly on the smooth rectangular lines of the tidy. "Two of the sweetest girls, in fact, that I have seen for a good while. Mildred has brought up her daughter extremely well; and when one thinks of it, she herself has developed in a most extraordinary manner. A most notable and useful woman, Mildred! Who would have thought it?"
Rose slept in the inner bedroom, which opened directly out of Hildegarde's, with a curtained doorway between. It was a pretty room, and very appropriate for Rose, as there were roses on the wall-paper and on the soft gray carpet. Here the ex-invalid, as she began to call herself, lay down on the cool white bed, in the pretty summer wrapper of white challis, dotted with rosebuds, which had been Mrs. Grahame's parting present. Hildegarde put a light shawl over her, and then sat down on the window-seat.
"Shall I read or sing, Rosy?" she asked.
"Oh! but are you quite sure you don't want to do something else, dear?" asked Rose.
"Absolutely sure!" said Hildegarde. "Quite positively sure!"
"Then," said Rose, "sing that pretty lullaby that you found in the old song-book the other day. So pretty! it is the one that Patient Grissil sings to her babies, isn't it?"
So Hilda sang, as follows:—
"'Golden slumbers kiss your eyes,
Smiles awake you when you rise.
Sleep, pretty wantons, do not cry,
And I will sing a lullaby.
Rock them, rock them, lullaby.
"'Care is heavy, therefore sleep you;
You are care, and care must keep you.
Sleep, pretty wantons, do not cry,
And I will sing a lullaby.
Rock them, rock them, lullaby.'"
Hildegarde glanced at the bed, and saw that Rose's eyes were just closing. Still humming the last lines of the lullaby, she cast about in her mind for something else; and there came to her another song of quaint old Thomas Dekker, which she loved even more than the other. She sang softly,—
"'Art thou poor, yet hast thou golden slumbers?
O sweet Content!
Art thou rich, yet is thy mind perplexèd?
O Punishment!
Dost laugh to see how fools are vexèd
To add to golden numbers golden numbers?
O sweet Content, O sweet, O sweet Content!
"'Canst drink the waters of the crispèd spring?
O sweet Content!
Swim'st thou in wealth, yet sink'st in thine own tears?
O Punishment!
Then he that patiently Want's burden bears
No burden bears, but is a king, a king.
O sweet Content, O sweet, O sweet Content.'"