Over the threshold, where he had come so often bounding in his life, they brought the dead; there was the same strange look of exaltation on their faces that I had noticed while Captain Sartell told the story of the storm; stricken and white, the poor faces, yet touched with some daring, unutterable hope—so clear a message they read on that wondrously still and reconciled face, so without fear the dead lips spoke to them.
To me, the message was one of infinite pathos and rebuke, speaking of a heroism beyond my poor conception, of a height of glory of which I had not dreamed.
"Farewell, forevermore," the fathomless far voice murmured to my despair, and slowly and repeatedly; "Farewell, forevermore. I am beyond the need of your poor love."
And my heart turned to stone, with all the passionate, pure sorrow that might have been, the tears in which I might have found relief.
Grandma Keeler's sacred "keepin' rooms" were opened wide for the reception of this guest, yet the sunshine stole in with a hallowed light, the entering breeze sighed low and softly. The children, always present, were, on this occasion, attentively still.
There were no external signs of woe for the poor Wallencampers to assume; they made no mad demonstrations of their grief; the suffering and the wonder were too deep.
Lydia—they all knew how she had loved this son. When they returned from their perilous quest in the storm, the first words Captain Sartell said were; "Who must go up now, and break Lyddy's heart?"
She stood among the others, very still, the old faded mantilla folded decently over her shoulders, the great dark eyes, his eyes, shining out even kindly from the worn face on those who came to speak to her.
Godfrey Cradlebow stood at the outer door, and addressed the people as they entered. Some said, afterwards, that he had been drinking; others declared he had not touched a drop for days. In the room where I stood, I heard his musical, deep tones, now swelling with the fervor of his harangue, now broken and trembling with emotion.
"Enter, my friends!" said this strange man. "Go in, and look on quietness. What do we seek for most, my friends? Look out on the world. It's a whole world of seekers. How they jostle against one another! How they sweat! how they strive! how they toil! And why all this? What seek they for? For quietness, my friends, even so—the quietness of wealth to gain, may be, or competence; may be, the quietness of some renown. And some go seeking over land and sea for their lost health, and quietness from pain.