“Tell him I shall be waiting for him till he comes. Are you here, Frederica? Write it now beside me, that no time may be lost. Tell him, ‘He loved us, and gave Himself for us.’”
If she spoke after that, they did not catch the words. They waited on, hour after hour, and so gently came the messenger, they scarce knew the moment when she was called.
“They thought her dying when she slept,
And sleeping when she died.”
Then “a change” came over the beautiful worn face. Tessie uttered a startled cry, and Selina laid down her face on the hand growing cold in hers, Frederica, taking a step toward the door, said, “Now I must go to papa.” But she would have fallen, had not Miss Agnace put her arm around her.
Then there were long, long days of waiting. Awed by the remembrance of their mother’s face, and the unwonted quiet of the house, the little boys now and then broke into momentary tears, and Tessie gave way sometimes, and cried bitterly. Selina comforted them all. She hardly realised yet what had befallen her. She only thought that her mother was at rest—that the weariness of earth was over, and the joy of heaven begun, and she said to the others how blessed their mother was now, how safe, and satisfied, and how she was waiting for them all there. Frederica listened as the rest did, and watched with grave, attentive eyes all that was done in preparation for the funeral, but she hardly ever spoke a word.
So Mrs Vane was carried away from the house where she was born, and where she had lived all her life. Her little sons followed her to the grave, but her daughters remained at home, as is the custom in M. among people of their class. They sat silent in the room where their mother had lain, refusing to leave it till their brothers came home. Mrs Brandon was with them, and by-and-by Miss Agnace came and sat down by the door. It grew dark, for the days were at the shortest, and it seemed a long time before the little boys came home.
“And now I must go to papa,” said Frederica that night, before Mrs Brandon went away. Mrs Brandon looked in perplexity at Miss Agnace, who whispered,—
“Say nothing to-night. Look at her eyes and her changing colour. She is not fit to be spoken to to-night. Poor child! There are weary days before her.”