WHITE FLOWERS AND FORGIVENESS FOREVERMORE.
Maureen lay down in the Chamber of Peace and slept for long hours. It
was very nearly noon on the following day when she awoke. She was quite
refreshed, quite calm and very happy.
"Dear little Daisy," she murmured under her breath. Mrs. Faithful
herself brought the girl a most carefully prepared breakfast.
"You ought to stay in bed, darling," she said. "You have gone through
too much. Dominic and I both wish it."
"I stay in bed?" said Maureen, with one of her radiant smiles. "But I'm
perfectly well, and I've got to attend to Henrietta now."
"Oh, my child, that poor, poor girl. Do you know, Maureen, that we have
not dared to tell her."
"I am glad," said Maureen, after a pause. "I will tell her myself in
my own way. Will you, dear Mrs. Faithful, ask Dom to collect heaps and
heaps of white flowers--all the daisies and white wild flowers he can
find and have them ready for me in a basket?"
"Yes, dearest, yes."
"I want to make her look beautiful before Henrietta sees her,"
continued Maureen. "Have you locked the door of that room?"
"Yes, dear; girls are not accustomed to the sight of death."
"Will you give me the key, please?"
Mrs. Faithful found herself obeying this extraordinary child without
a word. She not only gave her the key, but took Maureen's message to
Dominic.
When Maureen had finished her breakfast, she washed in the delicious
hot bath which adjoined her bedroom and dressed herself in the purest
white Indian muslin. It clung in soft folds to her slim young figure.
Then, as she left the room, she encountered Dominic, who was waiting
for her in the corridor outside. He had a basket under his arm filled
with all sorts of white flowers.
Maureen hastily produced wire and a thimble, needle, scissors and
thread, then she and Dominic went in the direction of the Infirmary.
"I've never seen anyone dead, you know," said Dominic, pausing for an
instant before that shut door.
"You never loved her in life, Dom, but you will love her now," said
Maureen. "She is far, far above us _all_ now. In the moment of death
that evil spirit which so tormented her passed away forever, and the
Spirit of Love came instead, and God sent one of his most beautiful
Angels and took her home, poor little Daisy!"
"Maureen, how queerly you speak."
"Come and see for yourself," said Maureen. "The last thing she said
before she left us was, '_I love you, Maureen, better than anyone else
in the whole world_.'"
"Did she really?" said Dominic.
"Now, come and see," continued Maureen.
She unlocked the door, and the boy and girl entered the Infirmary.
All the windows were wide open. There was a sweet gentle air blowing
through the long room. A white sheet covered the head and slight figure
of the girl.
Maureen gently removed the white sheet, and they both saw a tiny face,
a face which had never once been beautiful in life, but now looked
lovely. There was a faint smile on the lips. Daisy looked something
like a lily flower, broken at the stem.
Maureen bent and kissed her.
"Good-morning, darling," she said. "Now, Dom, be quick, be quick. She
is very cold, but I think somehow her spirit hears. Don't you know
those words of Mrs. Barbauld's,
"Say not good-night,
But in a brighter sphere,
Wish me good-morning.
"Now, Dom, let us cover her with flowers. Flowers everywhere--flowers
round her little head--flowers in her cold, wee hands--flowers
scattered about her. We'll make wreaths presently, you and I, but that
is enough for the present. Oh, she looks at _last_ what she was meant
to be. How, I must go to Henrietta."
Dom and his cousin left the Infirmary; Maureen put the key into her
pocket. For one minute she knelt down in the Chamber of Peace and
prayed very earnestly, then she went slowly with a shining light in her
eyes to Dinah's room. She had forgotten about her scalded and burnt
hand and arm; she forgot everything but the task which lay before
her. She entered the room with a confident step and that beautiful
light shining in her eyes; Dinah, who of course knew, but had not told
Henrietta, was trying to occupy that young lady with some bead work.
Henrietta said the beads were dull in colour; she only liked bright
things. The moment she saw Maureen she scowled and said, "Get away,
brat!"
Henrietta, alas, was again placed in the punishment chair. Maureen
looked at her with infinite sadness.
"Get away; why don't you go?" she continued. "_Dinah, me honey, take
care of thy money_; oh, Dinah, do let's get on with these beads."
"No," said Dinah, "I will not."
"Why not?" said Henrietta in amazement; "what ails thee, sweet maid?"
"Naught ever ails _me_," replied Dinah. "The peace of God which passes
all understanding dwells in my heart. I know no sorrow; I feel no
fear."
"Thou art very goody-goody," said Henrietta. "Now that this scamp has
come, can we not play Puss-in-the-corner? That will be jolly good
sport."
"Thou wilt stay where thou art," said Dinah. "Maureen, sit here."
She placed a little chair not far from Henny. Maureen sat down,
but only for a minute, then she rose and said in a voice which was
arresting and compelling so that even the wild girl who was tied in the
chair noticed it, "I have _something_ to tell you."
"What a bother," said Henrietta; "is it about Daisy? Is she well enough
to come and see me? I heard yesterday that she was fine. Catch anything
doing Daisy much harm; but however did you get all your hand and arm
bandaged up? Was she scratching you? It was like her, little witch."
"No," replied Maureen. "It was you who did that, Henrietta, when you
twisted the tablecloth round my legs. I got both scalded and burnt by
the little brass urn and the spirit lamp."
"I told thee so," interrupted Dinah.
"But it is nothing," said Maureen, "nothing at all! I do not feel it
indeed, Henrietta."
"There now, I said it was nothing," said Henrietta.
"But I want to tell you about Daisy."
"Yes, how is the imp?"
"Quite well. I have come to take you to her."
"I thought she couldn't do without _me_ long. I am the only one she
ever loved, poor little bit, poor _bitteen_. If she's quite well, she
might come to me, but it would be more fun going to her."
"Wilt thou go quietly and reverently," interrupted Dinah, "otherwise I
will not undo thy cords."
"Why, what is the matter?" said Henrietta. "She, the brat, says she is
quite well."
"Even so," replied Dinah; "but I must get thy answer."
"Oh, I'll be good," said Henrietta; "I'll have _lashins_ and _lavins_
to say to her. Poor little snippet; but what puzzles me is to know why
I should go _reverently_, and you both look queer, very queer. Is my
_Dysy_ really well?"
"She is, most assuredly, quite well, Henrietta."
"I will be good, then, and go to her. I have lots and lots to say to
her."
Dinah immediately slipped the cords, which fastened the rebellious girl
into the chair. She looked with emphasis at Maureen, but Maureen would
not meet her eyes.
As soon as ever Henrietta was free, Maureen took her hand. "Come," she
said.
Dinah hesitated for a moment, and then resolved to follow them. They
went out of Dinah's room, Henrietta talking rapidly and loudly, Maureen
very still and calm.
At last they reached the door of the Infirmary. Maureen took the key
out of her pocket.
"What's the matter with you, Maureen?" said Henrietta, a little
puzzled at last. "You don't look somehow _natural_. Oh, and there is
that old Dinah following us. I shall have no fun unless I'm alone with
my Daisy. Is it true that she is really well?"
"Yes, darling."
"Darling! You call _me_ darling?"
"There are two ways of getting well," said Maureen. "Little Daisy has
chosen the better way. Come at once. See how beautiful she is."
"Daisy beautiful! You must be joking."
Dinah took up her position outside the door. The two girls entered.
"Henny," said Maureen suddenly, "I'm afraid you will get something of
a shock, for you will see your poor little sister as God meant her to
be. The Evil Spirit has left her, and the very last thing she said was,
'_I love you, Maureen; I love you!_' Now, look for yourself at her dear
little face."
Quickly and deftly Maureen lifted the sheet and showed the dead girl
covered with flowers.
Henrietta was indeed startled at last. She gave a great ringing,
piercing cry, "Why, this is never _my_ Daisy," she said.
"Yes, yours, and mine, and _God's_!"
"Is she--is she really dead?" said Henrietta. "I wouldn't know her.
She's awfully pretty, little snippet; but why does she smile? Is she
glad of her death? And her eyes are tight shut and her freckles are
gone, and she looks very, very white, and her hair is as fuzzy-wuzzy as
mine. Oh, it's all a joke you are playing on me! Daisy! I say, Daisy!
Wake up, wake up! See, snippet, we've a lot to do. Wake up, flower,
wake up! Here, I don't often kiss, but I'll kiss you."
Henrietta bent and kissed the cold brow. She had never seen Death; she
had never felt the cold chill of Death. She gave one exceeding bitter
cry.
"Oh, Maureen, Maureen," she said, "save me! Save me!"
She clung to Maureen in frantic terror. At that moment Dinah entered
the room.
"Dinah, look at her! She's _dead_!"
"Yea, dear heart," replied Dinah, "the good Lord took her from the
evil to come. She passed into _His_ arms, breathing out her great and
exceeding love for _Maureen O'Brien_."
"Then I--I will love Maureen, too," said Henrietta. "Maureen, may I?
May I?"
"I want you to," said Maureen. "I love you. I will be your sister. I
will be your friend. Dinah, dear Dinah, may I take Henrietta into the
Chamber of Peace?"
"Yes, thee mayst, wonderful child. Thee mayst do it for one whole hour,
and when she comes back to me, I will be exceeding gentle with her."
But just at that moment the strangest of all strange things happened;
for little white Daisy--whom all supposed to be dead, to have passed
from this earth forever and ever--opened wide her eyes, those eyes
rendered wide and big from illness and suffering, and they saw a
sight she was never, never to forget. No less a sight than her own
Maureen--her own most blessed White Angel, supporting Henny in her
arms; and--wonder of all wonders--Henny was kissing her and crying and
saying, "As she loved you, poor snippet, why I do declare I just love
you, too. Yes, Maureen. Yes, Maureen--I love--love you, too. But look,
Maureen! Oh! look--oh! look--look! My Daisy is not dead at all!"
Then what a startling--what an amazing commotion took place--for
Dinah would not be Dinah if she did not know what to do. She took the
overwrought and excited Henrietta out of the room, and brought Nurse
Annie on the scene; and then Dr. Halsted was summoned, and the nurses
came back once more, and Daisy slept, but no longer the sleep of death,
but the healing sleep of returning life, her thin, little hand clasped
in that of the White, White Angel.
Yes, just when even Dr. Halsted thought she was dead, she recovered,
slowly, but also surely; and afterwards, when her weak voice could
utter the words, she whispered to Maureen, "I was in a deep, deep
dream, and a heavy and yet most restful sleep; but through the dream
and the sleep I heard poor Henny crying, and the White, White Angel
comforting her, so I _had_ to come back to _her_, and to my very own
Maureen, my _own_ Maureen."
Thus were great relief and infinite joy experienced at Felicity; and
not only did Daisy recover, but Henny clung to Maureen, sleeping with
her night after night in a little bed in the Chamber of Peace, and
assuring her of the greatness of her own love. "Why, she _means_ me
to take care of you, poor snippet--and of course I will. You may be
certain on that point."
Daisy got better, but Maureen really was ill for a time. Then Mr.
O'Brien, who was terribly anxious about his darling, suggested that she
should now leave the school and come with him and Dominic abroad. But
Maureen said, "I'll go nowhere without Henny and Daisy, and I think
they are best here for the present. If Daisy continues to improve, Dom
can come and take us all out to you for the Christmas holidays. Dom
will be able to leave Rugby for the purpose."
This suggestion was finally adopted, and strange as it may seem,
Henrietta's and Daisy's characters were so much altered that even Dom
did not know them. All their dislike to Maureen was now turned to
passionate love. Daisy had grown very gentle, but Henny was still wild.
"Why, she means _me_ to take care of you, you poor snippet," said
Henrietta. "If _she_ loves you, little dot, I am bound to do it. My
word! I should think so, poor little lone thing that you are. But
you'll have your Henny and Daisy in the future to comfort you."
Maureen in her heart of hearts found Henny's constant and violent
embraces extremely trying, but she bore them with angelic patience,
and she and Henrietta slept together in the Chamber of Peace.
Dinah was their constant attendant, and the school resumed its
accustomed work. Miss Pinchin was, however, requested not to return.
Mrs. Faithful, who was a rich woman, secured to her a pension for the
rest of her days, and in future, under the influence of Maureen, she
treated even the naughtiest of the new girls in a different fashion.
Thus passed the first few months after Maureen's arrival. Henny had got
a great shock and was much improved; but she was a mass of ignorance
and required ordinary teaching. For Maureen's sake she did struggle to
work; but the only part of her work she enjoyed was the preparing of
her lessons, which she did under Maureen's care.
"I'll always be Fuzzy-wuzzy," she said to Maureen, "although you _are_
the darlingest old pet. I'll always be Fuzzy-wuzzy. Even that angel
of a Daisy could never turn me good like you. Besides I am not a bit
clever, and I hate lessons."
"Well," said Maureen, "I've been thinking a great deal about you."
"Have you, you precious duck? And where have the thoughts come from?"
"Well, of course, you _can_ be good, if you like. We all can if we
like."
"I'm one of those who _don't_ like," said Henrietta.
"Well, even supposing you don't like it, you're having a grand, noble
try, both for my sake and Daisy's," said Maureen.
"Do you really think I'm improved?" said Henrietta in amazement.
"Of course I do. I should not know you for the same girl. But now,
look at me, Henny. Listen! I want to be downright desperately proud of
you and Daisy. I want _you_ to be the top girl of the school. Not in
cleverness--for you are not clever, darling--but in the other really
important things."
"What do you mean?" said Henrietta. "I thought school was a hot-house
to force the brain."
"Some schools are, but not Felicity. I want you to be noted in this
school, first for your gentleness."
"Hum!" said Henrietta, "a gentle Fuzzy-wuzzy!"
"Let me go on and say what is in my heart," continued Maureen. "Second,
for your unselfishness."
"Turned into a goody-goody," muttered Henrietta.
"No, no, dear child. Forgive me; that is really a silly expression, but
turned into one who _goes forward_ and who takes others along with her.
And now, think of the jolly time we have before us. We three girls are
going to meet Uncle Pat in Rome, that glorious, delightful place, and
when the Christmas holidays are over, and you have seen something of
another side of life, I am going to ask Mrs. Faithful to put you into
the sort of occupation which you can really do well, and which you have
a gift for."
"And what on earth is that?" asked Henrietta. "Oh, Maureen, you _are_
entertaining."
"Well, I've been watching you a good bit."
"I should think so. Those eyes of yours would see through--well,
through space itself. I often think you can see God."
"Of course I do. I see Him when I am most happy and when my dreams are
most beautiful; but whenever He comes to me, awake or asleep, He says
the same words, '_Help Henrietta and Daisy to find their lives_.'"
"I say, does He really?"
"Well, yes, that is what He does say; and _I_ want you, Henrietta, to
find your life. After Christmas is over, I want you to learn all those
things which make a home happy. I will speak to Mrs. Faithful on the
subject, and she will get you regular teachers, and if she cannot do it
herself, you and Daisy can go to another school, where these things are
specially taught."
"What things, what things?"
"I will tell you after we come back from Rome. Now, come out and let's
have a chat with Margaret Devereux. I want her to be your real friend.
It is very bad for you only to have your dear little sister and me."
Henrietta pouted and struggled, but in the end she yielded to the
superior force.
Margaret proved herself to be a most fascinating girl, and as she
had often been to Rome and knew Italy very well indeed, she soon
enthralled both girls with her accounts of the Forum and of the
Coliseum by moonlight, and Nero's Golden House, and the great Church
of St. Peter's, and the pictures in the Vatican, and the Pope and the
cardinals. Margaret had a great gift for description, and even Henny
did not miss a word.
Then Maureen suggested that they should not go to Rome a set of
ignoramuses, but should write down each day what Margaret had told
them. It is true that Maureen did most of the writing, but Henrietta
and Daisy were genuinely excited.
"Hurrah for Fuzzy-wuzzy," exclaimed Daisy. "Upon my word, she _is_
coming on."