September was not a pleasant month this year. There were not the usual
clear, bright days, all the lovelier and more enjoyable that the frost
in the morning air, and a tinge of brilliant colour here and there among
the trees, gave warning that there could not be many more of them in the
season. They were hot, oppressive days. The air was close, and the sky
was hidden by a thick haze, which told of the coming of a storm.
It was no wonder, the children said, that their mother was worse than
usual. Every one felt dull, and languid, and out of sorts. They would
all feel better when the rain which had been gathering so many days
should come, and it could not be long now. This was what Frederica said
to her sister, Mrs Brandon, when she came to see them after her return
from the seaside, where she had passed the summer. Mrs Brandon
assented, and regretted for baby's sake that she had returned home so
soon. She regretted it for another reason. She did not know how to
tell the business that had brought her to them that day. Their father
had decided not to return home till spring, and had written to her to
say that there would be an opportunity for Fred to travel with a Mrs
Bury, who was about to return to England, and he wished her to hasten
her preparations. Mrs Brandon was to tell Mrs Vane of the change of
plan, and to help Fred in all necessary arrangements.
She did not like the task he had assigned her, and she liked it less
when she saw the mother and her daughters together. She could not but
feel that her father was exposing himself to remark--nay, to just
censure--by remaining away so long in the circumstances of his family;
and she felt the greatest unwillingness to say a word to Fred about
leaving home. But Fred did not even take the matter into consideration.
She dismissed the subject with a single word.
"I'm not going," said she quietly. But an angry spot burned on her
cheek. She would not say to Mrs Brandon, or even to Selina, that she
thought it unkind of their father to ask such a thing--more than unkind
to remain longer away. She checked the hasty words of blame that rose
to. Tessie's lips in Caroline's presence. But she was grieved and
vexed too.
"I am not going," said she, "and nobody must tell mama that papa, wished
it. He ought to know that--"
She stopped suddenly, not sure of her voice.
"She has been ill so long," said Mrs Brandon. "I suppose papa thinks
she is as she always has been, now a little better, now worse. He
thinks you are over-anxious, and I am afraid he does not understand.
What does Dr Gerard say?"
"If you were to tell him, Caroline, he might understand," said Selina.
"Will you not write and tell him how we all want him home?"
"I will write certainly, and I will also see Mrs Bury. It would make
you too unhappy to leave now, though I trust your mother is not really
worse."
"Thank you. No, I could not go now. Even Mr St. Cyr is ill, and they
have no one but me--" said Fred, speaking with difficulty.
"My darling," said Mrs Brandon, moved to unwonted tenderness by the
sight of Frederica's tears, "you are not to be discouraged. Remember
how often your mother has been worse than she is now; and papa will be
sure to come when I write and tell him how much you all want him. And,
dear, if you break down, what will become of the rest?"
"I am not going to break down," said Fred, swallowing her tears, and
trying to smile. "Be sure and bring baby next time, and hasten now, for
the rain is near. Good-bye?"
She went to the gate, and stood looking after the carriage for a minute
or two. Then, instead of going into the house, she walked round the
garden several times, telling herself that there was no one but her to
care for the rest, and that she must be strong and not discouraged for
their sake. But for the moment she was utterly discouraged and afraid.
Though it was still early in the afternoon, it had grown very dark, and
there was first the silence, and then the low sighing of the wind among
the trees, that tells of the near approach of a storm; and the sudden
recollection that her little brothers had not returned from their walk
hastened Frederica's footsteps again to the gate. A few large drops of
rain fell before she reached it, and as she looked out a cloud of dust
and leaves came whirling down the street, and a strong gust of wind made
it necessary for her to cling for a moment to the gate, lest she should
be thrown down.
There was nothing to be seen of her brothers; but, fighting against the
wind, and shielding his eyes from the clouds of dust which it bore, came
a slender bowed figure that made her forget them. For just a moment she
thought it was Mr St. Cyr, but even before he came near, she saw it was
not he, but an older man. His hair was snowy white, and he walked with
a great effort, bowing his head low to meet the blast. Opposite the
gate, a sudden gust nearly overthrew him. He let fall a book which he
carried in his hand, and in stooping to recover it his cane slipped from
his grasp. Frederica sprang forward to lift it for him; and when she
met the sweet, grave smile that thanked her, she quite forgot that the
face was the face of a stranger.
"Come in," said she eagerly. "You are not strong enough to meet this
terrible wind. And see, the rain has begun to fall already. Come in
and rest."
"I shall be glad to rest," said the stranger; and so, at Frederica's
bidding, there passed over their threshold an angel unawares.
The brothers came home with a run and a shout, only in time to escape
the rain that soon fell in torrents. In the house it grew as dark as
night for a little while, and then the lightning flashed, and the
thunder broke over the roof with a peal that seemed to shake the
foundations. The servants of the house, awed and anxious, flocked into
the hall where the stranger sat, and where the children had gathered.
Their mother was there too, trembling and white with nervous terror.
For a minute or two the lightning flashed and the thunder rolled
continuously, and for a time not a word was spoken. Then that cloud
passed, and it grew light.
"You are not afraid," said Hubert, looking up into the face of the
stranger.
"No," said he gently, "I have no cause."
"But we are afraid, except Selina," said the boy, looking round on the
terrified faces. "Selina does not see the lightning. But why are not
you afraid?"
"`God is our Refuge and Strength, a very present Help in trouble.
Therefore shall not we fear, though the earth be removed, and though the
mountains be carried into the midst of the sea.' No, I am not afraid."
"But the lightning might kill you."
"Yes, it might kill me."
"And yet you are not afraid! Why are you not afraid?"
"Because I hope--yes, I believe, that when death shall come to me, it
will be as God's messenger, not to hurt, but to take me beyond all reach
of hurt for ever and for ever. Truly, my little lad, death is the last
thing of which one whom God loves need be afraid."
Another cloud was passing, and Hubert's face was hidden in his sister's
lap as once more the thunder broke over them. But the worst of the
storm was over. There were now longer pauses between the gradually
receding peals, and in the silence of one of them Selina asked softly,--
"Frederica, who is he that is not afraid of death?"