Zorilda's fervid bloom and tearless eye would have led an ignorant observer to believe that some secret source of joy poured the soft springs of consolation over her withered spirit, and that hope still fluttered in the distance. Hope and faith were indeed whispering peace, but they were not of this world; they were celestial visitants, and Mrs. Gordon was not deceived. Zorilda had forced her friend to bed, and entreated to be left in solitude herself. On entering her room in the morning, Mrs. Gordon, who had not slept, found her beloved adopted child already up, her head reclining on her hand, papers and writing implements scattered around.
"My mother," said she, "I have been busy making my will. You must take care of my poor pensioners. You will be my almoner. You know that I have a little fortune in bank. I am setting my house in order, and long to be gone."
Mrs. Gordon could not reply. Zorilda rose and threw her arms affectionately round the neck of her who was truly a mother to her in tenderness. "I will not afflict you any more," said she, "by touching on these subjects which distress you. Yet were you to know how sweet are the thoughts of death, you would not grieve. It was you too who first imparted to my soul that strength in which I am now permitted to pass through the dark valley; you taught me to lean on the staff which is now sustaining my footsteps: and will you repent you of the good you have performed, and mourn over the happy work which you have accomplished?
"I cannot tell how it is, but I feel assured that the conflict will speedily be ended. How simple, how beautiful is the religion which teaches how to die! and how little does it resemble the eloquent declamations, the fine spun arguments, the perplexing subtleties, with which we puzzle comprehension and estrange the affections, while 'redolent of life' we waste our intellectual prime in the labyrinths of metaphysical lore, and talk ourselves far away from God. My mother, I am about to depart, and shall soon be removed beyond the confines of sense. Pray for me, not that I should tarry here, but be received amidst the countless millions of the blessed."
Mrs. Gordon was called away upon urgent business, and Zorilda, having thrown on a cloak, glided secretly down the back stairs, and passing up a path lined with cypress, gained the church-yard, which had long been her favourite haunt. It was a romantic spot, in which she loved to listen to the sullen roar of the gathering storm, or the melancholy sighing of the sea breezes as they whistled through the long wiry grass which waved upon the walls of a ruined abbey overhung with ivy, that still outlived the wreck of time, and stood a monument of former days. An ancient yew tree, which tossed its old fantastic roots high in air, with flattened crown, over which the northern blast from Kinnaird's head swept nippingly, overshadowed a gloomy corner of this wild and desolate cemetery. Thither Zorilda bent her steps. Pausing as she approached the spot, the curlieu's plaintive wail struck upon her ear.
"Hah! that is my funeral knell! it is a gracious and a cheering sound; a requiem of welcome omen."
"I love to linger in the narrow field
"Of rest—to wander round from tomb to tomb,
"And think of some who silent sleep below."
She turned round an angle of the old building, as she mused, and reaching her accustomed rocky seat, beneath the yew tree's matted roof, "This," said she, "shall be my resting place! Ocean! thou image of eternity! thy breath is balmy, and wafts freedom to my bosom. Here will I trace the simple memorial which shall mark my grave. Ambition! but for thee, how different had been my fate; but the pilot who guided my bark, can never err. I have required long discipline to teach me; but at last I see the heavenly scheme which comprehends a wider range than this poor nether sphere can supply. Why is it so difficult to justify the ways of God to man, but that we seek results on faith, which are furnished only in a higher scene. My father, I acknowledge my stubbornness and stupidity. Thou hast dealt with me thus, that we might meet in the mansions of glory, where all tears shall be wiped away. What are the brief enjoyments of this fleeting world, when compared with the celestial communion of those who are purified in the furnace of affliction! Yes, we shall meet father, mother, Algernon! Oh! my burning brow; my beating heart. How I long for the green pastures and refreshing waters, which are promised to the weary pilgrim! Had I been what the world calls happy, I should have loved it too well, and built my tabernacle on its unstable sands. My God resolved to bring me home to more abiding felicity than I could have known below; there, I grow faint: this feeble outline is all that I can sketch, but Lionel shall finish it. That dear friend shall perform Zorilda's last earthly purpose, and place this memento where she lies. Oh that I were already laid beneath the verdant turf! but my tarrying will not be long—my strength is exhausted."
She made an effort to rise, but her bending limbs refused their office. Her eyes grew dim, and unable to recover herself, she fell back into the arms of him, whose name she had just pronounced.