英语天堂-第95部分

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“You　didn’t　give　me　a　curl；　Eva；”　said　her　father；　smiling　sadly。
“They　are　all　yours；　papa；”　said　she；　smiling—“yours　and　mamma’s；　and　you　must　give　dear　aunty　as　many　as　she　wants。　I　only　gave　them　to　our　poor　people　myself；　because　you　know；　papa；　they　might　be　forgotten　when　I　am　gone；　and　because　I　hoped　it　might　help　them　remember。　。　。　。　You　are　a　Christian；　are　you　not；　papa？”　said　Eva；　doubtfully。
“Why　do　you　ask　me？”
“I　don’t　know。　You　are　so　good；　I　don’t　see　how　you　can　help　it。”
“What　is　being　a　Christian；　Eva？”
“Loving　Christ　most　of　all；”　said　Eva。
“Do　you；　Eva？”
“Certainly　I　do。”
“You　never　saw　him；”　said　St。　Clare。
“That　makes　no　difference；”　said　Eva。　“I　believe　him；　and　in　a　few　days　I　shall　see　him；”　and　the　young　face　grew　fervent；　radiant　with　joy。
St。　Clare　said　no　more。　It　was　a　feeling　which　he　had　seen　before　in　his　mother；　but　no　chord　within　vibrated　to　it。
Eva；　after　this；　declined　rapidly；　there　was　no　more　any　doubt　of　the　event；　the　fondest　hope　could　not　be　blinded。　Her　beautiful　room　was　avowedly　a　sick　room；　and　Miss　Ophelia　day　and　night　performed　the　duties　of　a　nurse；—and　never　did　her　friends　appreciate　her　value　more　than　in　that　capacity。　With　so　well…trained　a　hand　and　eye；　such　perfect　adroitness　and　practice　in　every　art　which　could　promote　neatness　and　comfort；　and　keep　out　of　sight　every　disagreeable　incident　of　sickness；—with　such　a　perfect　sense　of　time；　such　a　clear；　untroubled　head；　such　exact　acomuracy　in　remembering　every　prescription　and　direction　of　the　doctors；—she　was　everything　to　him。　They　who　had　shrugged　their　shoulders　at　her　little　peculiarities　and　setnesses；　so　unlike　the　careless　freedom　of　southern　manners；　acknowledged　that　now　she　was　the　exact　person　that　was　wanted。
Uncle　Tom　was　much　in　Eva’s　room。　The　child　suffered　much　from　nervous　restlessness；　and　it　was　a　relief　to　her　to　be　carried；　and　it　was　Tom’s　greatest　delight　to　carry　her　little　frail　form　in　his　arms；　resting　on　a　pillow；　now　up　and　down　her　room；　now　out　into　the　verandah；　and　when　the　fresh　sea…breezes　blew　from　the　lake；—and　the　child　felt　freshest　in　the　morning；—he　would　sometimes　walk　with　her　under　the　orange…trees　in　the　garden；　or；　sitting　down　in　some　of　their　old　seats；　sing　to　her　their　favorite　old　hymns。
Her　father　often　did　the　same　thing；　but　his　frame　was　slighter；　and　when　he　was　weary；　Eva　would　say　to　him；
“O；　papa；　let　Tom　take　me。　Poor　fellow！　it　pleases　him；　and　you　know　it’s　all　he　can　do　now；　and　he　wants　to　do　something！”
“So　do　I；　Eva！”　said　her　father。
“Well；　papa；　you　can　do　everything；　and　are　everything　to　me。　You　read　to　me；—you　sit　up　nights；—and　Tom　has　only　this　one　thing；　and　his　singing；　and　I　know；　too；　he　does　it　easier　than　you　can。　He　carries　me　so　strong！”
The　desire　to　do　something　was　not　confined　to　Tom。　Every　servant　in　the　establishment　showed　the　same　feeling；　and　in　their　way　did　what　they　could。
Poor　Mammy’s　heart　yearned　towards　her　darling；　but　she　found　no　opportunity；　night　or　day；　as　Marie　declared　that　the　state　of　her　mind　was　such；　it　was　impossible　for　her　to　rest；　and；　of　course；　it　was　against　her　principles　to　let　any　one　else　rest。　Twenty　times　in　a　night；　Mammy　would　be　roused　to　rub　her　feet；　to　bathe　her　head；　to　find　her　pocket…handkerchief；　to　see　what　the　noise　was　in　Eva’s　room；　to　let　down　a　curtain　because　it　was　too　light；　or　to　put　it　up　because　it　was　too　dark；　and；　in　the　daytime；　when　she　longed　to　have　some　share　in　the　nursing　of　her　pet；　Marie　seemed　unusually　ingenious　in　keeping　her　busy　anywhere　and　everywhere　all　over　the　house；　or　about　her　own　person；　so　that　stolen　interviews　and　momentary　glimpses　were　all　she　could　obtain。
“I　feel　it　my　duty　to　be　particularly　careful　of　myself；　now；”　she　would　say；　“feeble　as　I　am；　and　with　the　whole　care　and　nursing　of　that　dear　child　upon　me。”
“Indeed；　my　dear；”　said　St。　Clare；　“I　thought　our　cousin　relieved　you　of　that。”
“You　talk　like　a　man；　St。　Clare；—just　as　if　a　mother　could　be　relieved　of　the　care　of　a　child　in　that　state；　but；　then；　it’s　all　alike；—no　one　ever　knows　what　I　feel！　I　can’t　throw　things　off；　as　you　do。”
St。　Clare　smiled。　You　must　excuse　him；　he　couldn’t　help　it；—for　St。　Clare　could　smile　yet。　For　so　bright　and　placid　was　the　farewell　voyage　of　the　little　spirit；—by　such　sweet　and　fragrant　breezes　was　the　small　bark　borne　towards　the　heavenly　shores；—that　it　was　impossible　to　realize　that　it　was　death　that　was　approaching。　The　child　felt　no　pain；—only　a　tranquil；　soft　weakness；　daily　and　almost　insensibly　increasing；　and　she　was　so　beautiful；　so　loving；　so　trustful；　so　happy；　that　one　could　not　resist　the　soothing　influence　of　that　air　of　innocence　and　peace　which　seemed　to　breathe　around　her。　St。　Clare　found　a　strange　calm　coming　over　him。　It　was　not　hope；—that　was　impossible；　it　was　not　resignation；　it　was　only　a　calm　resting　in　the　present；　which　seemed　so　beautiful　that　he　wished　to　think　of　no　future。　It　was　like　that　hush　of　spirit　which　we　feel　amid　the　bright；　mild　woods　of　autumn；　when　the　bright　hectic　flush　is　on　the　trees；　and　the　last　lingering　flowers　by　the　brook；　and　we　joy　in　it　all　the　more；　because　we　know　that　soon　it　will　all　pass　away。
The　friend　who　knew　most　of　Eva’s　own　imaginings　and　foreshadowings　was　her　faithful　bearer；　Tom。　To　him　she　said　what　she　would　not　disturb　her　father　by　saying。　To　him　she　imparted　those　mysterious　intimations　which　the　soul　feels；　as　the　cords　begin　to　unbind；　ere　it　leaves　its　clay　forever。
Tom；　at　last；　would　not　sleep　in　his　room；　but　lay　all　night　in　the　outer　verandah；　ready　to　rouse　at　every　call。
“Uncle　Tom；　what　alive　have　you　taken　to　sleeping　anywhere　and　everywhere；　like　a　dog；　for？”　said　Miss　Ophelia。　“I　thought　you　was　one　of　the　orderly　sort；　that　liked　to　lie　in　bed　in　a　Christian　way。”
“I　do；　Miss　Feely；”　said　Tom；　mysteriously。　“I　do；　but　now—”
“Well；　what　now？”
“We　mustn’t　speak　loud；　Mas’r　St。　Clare　won’t　hear　on　’t；　but　Miss　Feely；　you　know　there　must　be　somebody　watchin’　for　the　bridegroom。”
“What　do　you　mean；　Tom？”
“You　know　it　says　in　Scripture；　‘At　midnight　there　was　a　great　cry　made。　Behold；　the　bridegroom　cometh。’　That’s　what　I’m　spectin　now；　every　night；　Miss　Feely；—and　I　couldn’t　sleep　out　o’　hearin；　no　ways。”
“Why；　Uncle　Tom；　what　makes　you　think　so？”
“Miss　Eva；　she　talks　to　me。　The　Lord；　he　sends　his　messenger　in　the　soul。　I　must　be　thar；　Miss　Feely；　for　when　that　ar　blessed　child　goes　into　the　kingdom；　they’ll　open　the　door　so　wide；　we’ll　all　get　a　look　in　at　the　glory；　Miss　Feely。”
“Uncle　Tom；　did　Miss　Eva　say　she　felt　more　unwell　than　usual　tonight？”
“No；　but　she　telled　me；　this　morning；　she　was　coming　nearer；—thar’s　them　that　tells　it　to　the　child；　Miss　Feely。　It’s　the　angels；—‘it’s　the　trumpet　sound　afore　the　break　o’　day；’”　said　Tom；　ing　from　a　favorite　hymn。
This　dialogue　passed　between　Miss　Ophelia　and　Tom；　between　ten　and　eleven；　one　evening；　after　her　arrangements　had　all　been　made　for　the　night；　when；　on　going　to　bolt　her　outer　door；　she　found　Tom　stretched　along　by　it；　in　the　outer　verandah。
She　was　not　nervous　or　impressible；　but　the　solemn；　heart…felt　manner　struck　her。　Eva　had　been　unusually　bright　and　cheerful；　that　afternoon；　and　had　sat　raised　in　her　bed；　and　looked　over　all　her　little　trinkets　and　precious　things；　and　designated　the　friends　to　whom　she　would　have　them　given；　and　her　manner　was　more　animated；　and　her　voice　more　natural；　than　they　had　known　it　for　weeks。　Her　father　had　been　in；　in　the　evening；　and　had　said　that　Eva　appeared　more　like　her　former　self　than　ever　she　had　done　since　her　sickness；　and　when　he　kissed　her　for　the　night；　he　said　to　Miss　Ophelia；—“Cousin；　we　may　keep　her　with　us；　after　all；　she　is　certainly　better；”　and　he　had　retired　with　a　lighter　heart　in　his　bosom　than　he　had　had　there　for　weeks。
But　at　midnight；—strange；　mystic　hour！—when　the　veil　between　the　frail　present　and　the　eternal　future　grows　thin；—then　came　the　messenger！
There　was　a　sound　in　that　chamber；　first　of　one　who　stepped　quickly。　It　was　Miss　Ophelia；　who　had　resolved　to　sit　up　all　night　with　her　little　charge；　and　who；　at　the　turn　of　the　night；　had　discerned　what　experienced　nurses　significantly　call　“a　change。”　The　outer　door　was　quickly　opened；　and　Tom；　who　was　watching　outside；　was　on　the　alert；　in　a　moment。
“Go　for　the　doctor；　Tom！　lose　not　a　moment；”　said　Miss　Ophelia；　and；　stepping　across　the　room；　she　rapped　at　St。　Clare’s　door。
“Cousin；”　she　said；　“I　wish　you　would　come。”
Those　words　fell　on　his　heart　like　clods　upon　a　coffin。　Why　did　they？　He　was　up　and　in　the　room　in　an　instant；　and　bending　over　Eva；　who　still　slept。
What　was　it　he　saw　that　made　his　heart　stand　still？　Why　was　no　word　spoken　between　the　two？　Thou　canst　say；　who　hast　seen　that　same　expression　on　the　face　dearest　to　thee；—that　look　indescribable；　hopeless；　unmistakable；　that　says　to　thee　that　thy　beloved　is　no　longer　thine。
On　the　face　of　the　child；　however；　there　was　no　ghastly　imprint；—only　a　high　and　almost　sublime　expression；—the　overshadowing　presence　of　spiritual　natures；　the　dawning　of　immortal　life　in　that　childish　soul。
They　stood　there　so　still；　gazing　upon　her；　that　even　the　ticking　of　the　watch　seemed　too　loud。　In　a　few　moments；　Tom　returned；　with　the　doctor。　He　entered；　gave　one　look；　and　stood　silent　as　the　rest。
“When　did　this　change　take　place？”　said　he；　in　a　low　whisper；　to　Miss　Ophelia。
“About　the　turn　of　the　night；”　was　the　reply。
Marie；　roused　by　the　entrance　of　the　doctor；　appeared；　hurriedly；　from　the　next　room。
“Augustine！　Cousin！—O！—what！”　she　hurriedly　began。
“Hush！”　said　St。　Clare；　hoarsely；　“she　is　dying！”
Mammy　heard　the　words；　and　flew　to　awaken　the　servants。　The　house　was　soon　roused；—lights　were　seen；　footsteps　heard；　anxious　faces　thronged　the　verandah；　and　looked　tearfully　through　the　glass　doors；　but　St。　Clare　heard　and　said　nothing；—he　saw　only　that　look　on　the　face　of　the　little　sleeper。
“O；　if　she　would　only　wake；　and　speak　once　more！”　he　said；　and；　stooping　over　her；　he　spoke　in　her　ear；—“Eva；　darling！”
The　large　blue　eyes　unclosed—a　smile　passed　over　her