英语天堂-第63部分

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“Well；　we　can’t　help　it；　it’s　no　use　worrying；　Eva！　I　don’t　know　what’s　to　be　done；　we　ought　to　be　thankful　for　our　own　advantages。”
“I　hardly　can　be；”　said　Eva；　“I’m　so　sorry　to　think　of　poor　folks　that　haven’t　any。”
That’s　odd　enough；”　said　Marie；—“I’m　sure　my　religion　makes　me　thankful　for　my　advantages。”
“Mamma；”　said　Eva；　“I　want　to　have　some　of　my　hair　cut　off；—a　good　deal　of　it。”
“What　for？”　said　Marie。
“Mamma；　I　want　to　give　some　away　to　my　friends；　while　I　am　able　to　give　it　to　them　myself。　Won’t　you　ask　aunty　to　come　and　cut　it　for　me？”
Marie　raised　her　voice；　and　called　Miss　Ophelia；　from　the　other　room。
The　child　half　rose　from　her　pillow　as　she　came　in；　and；　shaking　down　her　long　golden…brown　curls；　said；　rather　playfully；　“Come　aunty；　shear　the　sheep！”
“What’s　that？”　said　St。　Clare；　who　just　then　entered　with　some　fruit　he　had　been　out　to　get　for　her。
“Papa；　I　just　want　aunty　to　cut　off　some　of　my　hair；—there’s　too　much　of　it；　and　it　makes　my　head　hot。　Besides；　I　want　to　give　some　of　it　away。”
Miss　Ophelia　came；　with　her　scissors。
“Take　care；—don’t　spoil　the　looks　of　it！”　said　her　father；　“cut　underneath；　where　it　won’t　show。　Eva’s　curls　are　my　pride。”
“O；　papa！”　said　Eva；　sadly。
“Yes；　and　I　want　them　kept　handsome　against　the　time　I　take　you　up　to　your　uncle’s　plantation；　to　see　Cousin　Henrique；”　said　St。　Clare；　in　a　gay　tone。
“I　shall　never　go　there；　papa；—I　am　going　to　a　better　country。　O；　do　believe　me！　Don’t　you　see；　papa；　that　I　get　weaker；　every　day？”
“Why　do　you　insist　that　I　shall　believe　such　a　cruel　thing；　Eva？”　said　her　father。
“Only　because　it　is　true；　papa：　and；　if　you　will　believe　it　now；　perhaps　you　will　get　to　feel　about　it　as　I　do。”
St。　Clare　closed　his　lips；　and　stood　gloomily　eying　the　long；　beautiful　curls；　which；　as　they　were　separated　from　the　child’s　head；　were　laid；　one　by　one；　in　her　lap。　She　raised　them　up；　looked　earnestly　at　them；　twined　them　around　her　thin　fingers；　and　looked　from　time　to　time；　anxiously　at　her　father。
“It’s　just　what　I’ve　been　foreboding！”　said　Marie；　“it’s　just　what　has　been　preying　on　my　health；　from　day　to　day；　bringing　me　downward　to　the　grave；　though　nobody　regards　it。　I　have　seen　this；　long。　St。　Clare；　you　will　see；　after　a　while；　that　I　was　right。”
“Which　will　afford　you　great　consolation；　no　doubt！”　said　St。　Clare；　in　a　dry；　bitter　tone。
Marie　lay　back　on　a　lounge；　and　covered　her　face　with　her　cambric　handkerchief。
Eva’s　clear　blue　eye　looked　earnestly　from　one　to　the　other。　It　was　the　calm；　comprehending　gaze　of　a　soul　half　loosed　from　its　earthly　bonds；　it　was　evident　she　saw；　felt；　and　appreciated；　the　difference　between　the　two。
She　beckoned　with　her　hand　to　her　father。　He　came　and　sat　down　by　her。
“Papa；　my　strength　fades　away　every　day；　and　I　know　I　must　go。　There　are　some　things　I　want　to　say　and　do；—that　I　ought　to　do；　and　you　are　so　unwilling　to　have　me　speak　a　word　on　this　subject。　But　it　must　come；　there’s　no　putting　it　off。　Do　be　willing　I　should　speak　now！”
“My　child；　I　am　willing！”　said　St。　Clare；　covering　his　eyes　with　one　hand；　and　holding　up　Eva’s　hand　with　the　other。
“Then；　I　want　to　see　all　our　people　together。　I　have　some　things　I　must　say　to　them；”　said　Eva。
“Well；”　said　St。　Clare；　in　a　tone　of　dry　endurance。
Miss　Ophelia　despatched　a　messenger；　and　soon　the　whole　of　the　servants　were　convened　in　the　room。
Eva　lay　back　on　her　pillows；　her　hair　hanging　loosely　about　her　face；　her　crimson　cheeks　contrasting　painfully　with　the　intense　whiteness　of　her　complexion　and　the　thin　contour　of　her　limbs　and　features；　and　her　large；　soul…like　eyes　fixed　earnestly　on　every　one。
The　servants　were　struck　with　a　sudden　emotion。　The　spiritual　face；　the　long　locks　of　hair　cut　off　and　lying　by　her；　her　father’s　averted　face；　and　Marie’s　sobs；　struck　at　once　upon　the　feelings　of　a　sensitive　and　impressible　race；　and；　as　they　came　in；　they　looked　one　on　another；　sighed；　and　shook　their　heads。　There　was　a　deep　silence；　like　that　of　a　funeral。
Eva　raised　herself；　and　looked　long　and　earnestly　round　at　every　one。　All　looked　sad　and　apprehensive。　Many　of　the　women　hid　their　faces　in　their　aprons。
“I　sent　for　you　all；　my　dear　friends；”　said　Eva；　“because　I　love　you。　I　love　you　all；　and　I　have　something　to　say　to　you；　which　I　want　you　always　to　remember。　。　。　。　I　am　going　to　leave　you。　In　a　few　more　weeks　you　will　see　me　no　more—”
Here　the　child　was　interrupted　by　bursts　of　groans；　sobs；　and　lamentations；　which　broke　from　all　present；　and　in　which　her　slender　voice　was　lost　entirely。　She　waited　a　moment；　and　then；　speaking　in　a　tone　that　checked　the　sobs　of　all；　she　said；
“If　you　love　me；　you　must　not　interrupt　me　so。　Listen　to　what　I　say。　I　want　to　speak　to　you　about　your　souls。　。　。　。　Many　of　you；　I　am　afraid；　are　very　careless。　You　are　thinking　only　about　this　world。　I　want　you　to　remember　that　there　is　a　beautiful　world；　where　Jesus　is。　I　am　going　there；　and　you　can　go　there。　It　is　for　you；　as　much　as　me。　But；　if　you　want　to　go　there；　you　must　not　live　idle；　careless；　thoughtless　lives。　You　must　be　Christians。　You　must　remember　that　each　one　of　you　can　become　angels；　and　be　angels　forever。　。　。　。　If　you　want　to　be　Christians；　Jesus　will　help　you。　You　must　pray　to　him；　you　must　read—”
The　child　checked　herself；　looked　piteously　at　them；　and　said；　sorrowfully；
“O　dear！　you　can’t　read—poor　souls！”　and　she　hid　her　face　in　the　pillow　and　sobbed；　while　many　a　smothered　sob　from　those　she　was　addressing；　who　were　kneeling　on　the　floor；　aroused　her。
“Never　mind；”　she　said；　raising　her　face　and　smiling　brightly　through　her　tears；　“I　have　prayed　for　you；　and　I　know　Jesus　will　help　you；　even　if　you　can’t　read。　Try　all　to　do　the　best　you　can；　pray　every　day；　ask　Him　to　help　you；　and　get　the　Bible　read　to　you　whenever　you　can；　and　I　think　I　shall　see　you　all　in　heaven。”
“Amen；”　was　the　murmured　response　from　the　lips　of　Tom　and　Mammy；　and　some　of　the　elder　ones；　who　belonged　to　the　Methodist　church。　The　younger　and　more　thoughtless　ones；　for　the　time　completely　overcome；　were　sobbing；　with　their　heads　bowed　upon　their　knees。
“I　know；”　said　Eva；　“you　all　love　me。”
“Yes；　oh；　yes！　indeed　we　do！　Lord　bless　her！”　was　the　involuntary　answer　of　all。
“Yes；　I　know　you　do！　There　isn’t　one　of　you　that　hasn’t　always　been　very　kind　to　me；　and　I　want　to　give　you　something　that；　when　you　look　at；　you　shall　always　remember　me；　I’m　going　to　give　all　of　you　a　curl　of　my　hair；　and；　when　you　look　at　it；　think　that　I　loved　you　and　am　gone　to　heaven；　and　that　I　want　to　see　you　all　there。”
It　is　impossible　to　describe　the　scene；　as；　with　tears　and　sobs；　they　gathered　round　the　little　creature；　and　took　from　her　hands　what　seemed　to　them　a　last　mark　of　her　love。　They　fell　on　their　knees；　they　sobbed；　and　prayed；　and　kissed　the　hem　of　her　garment；　and　the　elder　ones　poured　forth　words　of　endearment；　mingled　in　prayers　and　blessings；　after　the　manner　of　their　susceptible　race。
As　each　one　took　their　gift；　Miss　Ophelia；　who　was　apprehensive　for　the　effect　of　all　this　excitement　on　her　little　patient；　signed　to　each　one　to　pass　out　of　the　apartment。
At　last；　all　were　gone　but　Tom　and　Mammy。
“Here；　Uncle　Tom；”　said　Eva；　“is　a　beautiful　one　for　you。　O；　I　am　so　happy；　Uncle　Tom；　to　think　I　shall　see　you　in　heaven；—for　I’m　sure　I　shall；　and　Mammy；—dear；　good；　kind　Mammy！”　she　said；　fondly　throwing　her　arms　round　her　old　nurse；—“I　know　you’ll　be　there；　too。”
“O；　Miss　Eva；　don’t　see　how　I　can　live　without　ye；　no　how！”　said　the　faithful　creature。　“’Pears　like　it’s　just　taking　everything　off　the　place　to　oncet！”　and　Mammy　gave　way　to　a　passion　of　grief。
Miss　Ophelia　pushed　her　and　Tom　gently　from　the　apartment；　and　thought　they　were　all　gone；　but；　as　she　turned；　Topsy　was　standing　there。
“Where　did　you　start　up　from？”　she　said；　suddenly。
“I　was　here；”　said　Topsy；　wiping　the　tears　from　her　eyes。　“O；　Miss　Eva；　I’ve　been　a　bad　girl；　but　won’t　you　give　me　one；　too？”
“Yes；　poor　Topsy！　to　be　sure；　I　will。　There—every　time　you　look　at　that；　think　that　I　love　you；　and　wanted　you　to　be　a　good　girl！”
“O；　Miss　Eva；　I　is　tryin！”　said　Topsy；　earnestly；　“but；　Lor；　it’s　so　hard　to　be　good！　’Pears　like　I　an’t　used　to　it；　no　ways！”
“Jesus　knows　it；　Topsy；　he　is　sorry　for　you；　he　will　help　you。”
Topsy；　with　her　eyes　hid　in　her　apron；　was　silently　passed　from　the　apartment　by　Miss　Ophelia；　but；　as　she　went；　she　hid　the　precious　curl　in　her　bosom。
All　being　gone；　Miss　Ophelia　shut　the　door。　That　worthy　lady　had　wiped　away　many　tears　of　her　own；　during　the　scene；　but　concern　for　the　consequence　of　such　an　excitement　to　her　young　charge　was　uppermost　in　her　mind。
St。　Clare　had　been　sitting；　during　the　whole　time；　with　his　hand　shading　his　eyes；　in　the　same　attitude。
When　they　were　all　gone；　he　sat　so　still。
“Papa！”　said　Eva；　gently；　laying　her　hand　on　his。
He　gave　a　sudden　start　and　shiver；　but　made　no　answer。
“Dear　papa！”　said　Eva。
“I　cannot；”　said　St。　Clare；　rising；　“I　cannot　have　it　so！　The　Almighty　hath　dealt　very　bitterly　with　me！”　and　St。　Clare　pronounced　these　words　with　a　bitter　emphasis；　indeed。
“Augustine！　has　not　God　a　right　to　do　what　he　will　with　his　own？”　said　Miss　Ophelia。
“Perhaps　so；　but　that　doesn’t　make　it　any　easier　to　bear；”　said　he；　with　a　dry；　hard；　tearless　manner；　as　he　turned　away。
“Papa；　you　break　my　heart！”　said　Eva；　rising　and　throwing　herself　into　his　arms；　“you　must　not　feel　so！”　and　the　child　sobbed　and　wept　with　a　violence　which　alarmed　them　all；　and　turned　her　father’s　thoughts　at　once　to　another　channel。
“There；　Eva；—there；　dearest！　Hush！　hush！　I　was　wrong；　I　was　wicked。　I　will　feel　any　way；　do　any　way；—only　don’t　distress　yourself；　don’t　sob　so。　I　will　be　resigned；　I　was　wicked　to　speak　as　I　did。”
Eva　soon　lay　like　a　wearied　dove　in　her　father’s　arms；　and　he；　bending　over　her；　soothed　her　by　every　tender　word　he　could　think　of。
Marie　rose　and　threw　herself　out　of　the　apartment　into　her　own；　when　she　fell　into　violent　hysterics。
“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