In looking back at that winter, most of its evenings seem to have been
spent before the open fire, the room lighted only by its blaze.
Sometimes Little Blossom lay across my knees, the firelight mirrored in
her thoughtful eyes, her pink toes curling and uncurling to the heat.
Sometimes she lay cradled in Julius's arms, while he crooned old ditties
remembered from his own childhood.
Bruno never seemed to tire of studying this new-comer to our home
circle. He would stand with ears drooped forward, watching me bathe and
dress her, so absorbed in contemplation that he would start when I
spoke, as if he had forgotten my existence.
He had always before seemed intensely jealous when Julius or I had
noticed children, but with Little Blossom it was different; he seemed to
share our feelings,--she was _our_ baby.
At first he showed a disposition to play with her as he had long ago
romped with Rebecca's kittens, but after I had once explained to him
that she was too little and tender for such frolics, that he must wait
till she could run about, he seemed quite satisfied, and constituted
himself her guardian, as he had always been mine. While she slept, he
would lie beside her crib. When she took an airing, it was his delight
to walk proudly beside the carriage. When I held her, he sat at my
elbow; and when she laughed and cooed in her romps with Julius, he would
make short runs around the room, barking his delight.
Happy hours, all too short!
As spring advanced, our Little Blossom drooped. Her brain had always
been in advance of her physical development. She had never the
meaningless stare seen in normal babies. Instead, there was a wistful,
pensive expression as she gazed into the fire or through the window,
with always a quick dimpling smile when either of us spoke to her. There
was much sickness in town, especially among young children. We decided
to spend the summer months at the seashore. A cottage was leased, and
trunks were packed full of summer clothes, draperies, and other joys and
comforts.
When the time came to start, the cry arose,--
"Where is Bruno?"
No one knew. None remembered seeing him since breakfast. It was now
half-past ten. The train was to go at eleven, and we were three-quarters
of a mile from the station! We felt utterly lost. It was impossible to
leave Bruno, and yet we must go.
Julius looked in all directions, calling and whistling. No answer. Our
baggage had gone, a wagon full of it. The tickets were bought, and
everything was arranged.
Julius came in from an unsuccessful search, a look of desperation on his
face.
"There's no help for it," he said; "we must start, Bruno or no Bruno."
We locked up the house and set off. As we drove along, I kept looking
out, hoping to see the familiar form come dashing after us, but in vain.
Julius was to come into town each morning to the office, returning to us
at the seashore on the afternoon train. I began to think I could not
know Bruno's fate (for I feared something serious must have happened)
until the afternoon of the next day. We had been so delayed it was
necessary to make all speed.
[Illustration: Chasing Crabs and Sea-Birds.--PAGE 111.]
We hurried into the station, and there, standing beside our heap of
luggage, one eye for the packages and the other on the lookout for
us, stood Bruno!
He greeted us with such extravagant delight, and we felt so relieved at
seeing him, that we found no reproaches ready. Besides, although he had
so delayed us, it was quite evident that he had thought we had our hands
over-full, and that by keeping his eye on the things he would be helping
us. So he had followed the wagon, overlooked the unloading, and
evidently had kept tally of every package. Our man who had driven the
wagon was to go on with us to help in the transfer at the other end, and
to make all ready for comfort in the cottage. He told us that Bruno had
mounted guard over him as well as our effects, and while rather
overdoing it, had been quite helpful.
It is hard to write of the weeks that followed.
I see Bruno racing up and down the beach and swimming out through the
breakers, while Julius and I sit on either side of a little wicker wagon
drawn up beyond the reach of the tide, watching him.
I see him chasing crabs and sea-birds, or limping up to show us his foot
stung by a stranded jelly-fish.
Then--darkness.
It is night in a long white-draped room.
One end of it is lighted by a lamp having a rose-colored shade.
In the middle of the lighted end stands a crib. A little white-robed
form lies within.
The pink light so simulates a glow of health that the mother, sitting
beside the crib, bends low, thinking the little breast heaves.
But no. The waxen cheeks chill her lips.
Still she bends and gazes on that loved little form.
Bruno lies at the mother's feet. When she moves he rises, looking
mournfully into the crib, then turns to rest his head on her knee.
On a lounge, in the end of the room where shadows lurk, the father lies
asleep, exhausted with grief.
The curtains sway in the open windows, as if the room were breathing.
All else is still.
I see all this as if it were a scene in a dream or as a
picture,--something in which I have no part; and yet I feel that my
heart throbbed in that mother's bosom.
I know that after she had sent away all kind friends, to watch alone
that last night, it was literally and truly a "white night" to her.
She felt neither sorrow nor grief.
Yesterday her heart was torn with anguish, when those heavenly eyes grew
dim with the death-glaze.
To-morrow it will be rent again, when the little form is hidden from her
in its white casket; and again--at that bitterest moment Life can
give--when the first handful of earth makes hollow echo above it.
But to-night there is the uplifted feeling of perfect peace.
Although it is the third sleepless night, there is no thought of
weariness. All through the short hours she sits and feasts her eyes on
the angelic face with its look of joy unutterable.
And Bruno watches with her.
* * * * *
The next day Bruno does not ask to join the sad procession leaving the
cottage.
He has no thought for self at such a time.
As it turns the corner, his mournful eyes are seen at the window, gazing
after his little playmate who is being carried away.
Or does he realize it is only the beautiful body they are taking, which
was all too frail for the bright spirit now flown these two days since!