"OF SUCH IS THE KINGDOM OF HEAVEN."
FROM the day when Eddy's baptism was decided on, he seemed to decline
rapidly. He grew weaker and thinner, lost what little appetite he had,
and though he suffered apparently less than usual, it was evident to
all who saw him that his end was fast approaching. Susan now never left
him, day or night; and though her health suffered from the fatigue and
anxiety, she would allow no one to take her place, or do any thing
for him. Edah was desirous to dismiss her school, and remain at home
all day, but Susan would not hear of it, and as there was indeed no
absolute necessity for her presence, she was content to submit to her
sister's judgment, though she scarcely expected, each morning when she
left home, to find the child alive when she returned. Mrs. Champlin did
not realize Eddy's situation, and seemed not to consider him in any
danger; in fact, she troubled herself very little about the matter,
though she thought it very disagreeable to have the house kept so
still, and to see so many serious faces about her.
When the day fixed upon for the service arrived, Eddy seemed a little
better: he noticed things around him, took a little food, and even
smiled, and made an effort to put out his little hands when Mr.
Laurence appeared. Two or three of the neighbors came in, among whom
were Mr. and Mrs. Bell, with Bob and Jack, and Miss Gilmore. The
service was very solemn and touching indeed, as Mr. Laurence performed
it, and did not distress or even disturb the sick child, though he was
usually very sensitive to the presence of strangers. Pauline behaved
perfectly well, and seemed to comprehend the nature and importance
of the service in which she was engaged, repeating the Lord's Prayer
distinctly, and saying the answers to the questions after Edah in a low
whisper.
The scene was a very affecting one. Mrs. Bell and Miss Gilmore wept
without restraint; Mr. Bell was scarcely less moved, and Mr. Laurence
himself was obliged to pause several times in order to control his
voice. Susan was apparently the least agitated of the party: only her
pale face and compressed lips, and the intensity of her attention to
her darling, showed how much she felt.
A few minutes after the conclusion of the ceremony, the doctor came in,
as he usually did twice or thrice a week, to inquire how the sick child
was.
"He seems rather better, I think," said Susan, in answer to his
inquiries. "He has eaten a little to-day, and seems to take more notice
of things. I hope he is better."
The doctor examined his pulse and skin, and as he rose from doing so,
he exchanged a glance with Mrs. Bell, which told her the truth. The
child was dying. He called Mr. Laurence out of the room, and said in a
low voice—
"You must prepare them for a change. He will not last more than a few
hours longer."
"Will you not inform them yourself?" asked Mr. Laurence.
"No," replied the doctor, gruffly, and clearing his throat: "it is not
my business, but yours."
"Do you think," asked Mr. Laurence, "that the service in which we have
just been engaged, can have shortened his life?"
"No; oh no! He was marked for death three days ago, and I am only
surprised that he has lasted so long. Make it as easy as you can, for
that girl Susan's sake. I will look in again in half an hour."
The doctor departed, and Mr. Laurence returned to the parlor, pondering
in what way best to discharge the painful duty assigned to him. But the
moment he opened the door, he saw that it was no longer necessary.
Susan had either guessed the truth, or she had been informed of it
by Mrs. Bell. As pale as death itself, and almost as still, she was
sitting immovable, with her eyes riveted upon the face of the dying
child, utterly heedless of any other object, even of her mother, who
was rolling and struggling in one of her frightful hysterical attacks.
Pauline was kneeling by Susan's side, with her face buried in her
dress, now and then casting a look at her little brother, and evidently
making a strong effort to control her grief, lest it should add to her
sister's.
Sam and Edah were endeavoring, in vain, to prevail on their mother to
retire to her room. Mr. Laurence saw at once that he could be useful
here, and going up to Mrs. Champlin, he requested her, in a kind but
peremptory tone, to take his arm and retire, at the same time assisting
her to rise. She obeyed him as submissively as possible, and, with
Sam's assistance, she was conveyed to her own bedroom, where they left
her in charge of Mrs. Bell, and returned to the parlor.
The doctor was there, but nothing could be done. Eddy lay apparently in
a stupor, his eyes closed, his breathing gentle and soft, but evidently
growing shorter: he did not seem to suffer at all, and his face was
calm and composed. For several hours he lay in this state, with but
very little change; but about sunset he moved restlessly, and opened
his eyes, which wandered around the apartment, apparently searching for
something, till they fixed themselves on Susan's face. An ineffably
sweet smile lighted up his wan countenance, and, with a gentle sigh,
the spirit took wing. The sacred sign of baptism was hardly dry upon
his forehead, when his soul entered the presence of Him who said,—
"Suffer little children to come unto Me, and forbid them not, for of
such is the Kingdom of Heaven."
With many tears and sobs, the children gathered around the body of
their little angel brother, but Susan sat quiet and tearless: she
seemed perfectly stunned. Only when Miss Gilmore would have taken her
darling from her arms, she roused herself, and said, with a kind of
fretful impatience—
"Don't move him, Miss Gilmore, you will hurt him." Then, as if
recollecting herself, she continued gently, "I will do all that is
necessary myself, if you please: I would much rather."
Miss Gilmore hesitated, but the doctor, in a whisper, advised that she
should be humored in her wish, and she desisted.
Susan washed the little body, dressed it in its prettiest white frock
and cap, and, after arranging the little crib in which Eddy usually
slept, she laid him carefully down as if he had been alive. She then
suffered Edah to lead her to her room, and was persuaded to lie down.
The intelligence that all was over was communicated to Mrs. Champlin
with all due precaution, but she received it very quietly, merely
observing that she had expected such a result, as the poor, dear child
had been sickly from his birth. She seemed somewhat affected at the
sight of Pauline's tears, and even took some pains to comfort her,
assuring her that her little brother was now an angel in heaven, and
that she would see him again if she were a good girl.
The next day but one was fixed upon for the funeral, which was from the
house. Mr. Laurence had brought his father's coach for the use of the
family, and Mr. Willson drove over in his open carriage, while a number
of the neighbors came in wagons and on horseback.
Mr. Laurence and Mr. Willson read the burial service, and at the solemn
words, "I am the resurrection and the life, saith the Lord," Susan's
tears flowed for the first time. Edah was rejoiced to see her weeping,
for her perfect calmness had alarmed her friends who almost feared
for her reason. She wept abundantly as the service proceeded, and
especially at the grave, where her emotion seemed almost overpowering.
It was, indeed, a sad change from her gentle care and watchfulness, to
the cold ground covered with ice and snow; from the soft cradle and
warm covering, to the narrow coffin and the rattling earth.
She returned from the graveyard tolerably serene and composed, but her
tears burst forth again on entering the sitting-room, from which Eddy's
crib had been removed, for the first time, in many months. Edah had
gone directly up to her mother, and Susan was alone with Pauline. The
little girl stood by her sister's side, afraid to speak, yet anxious to
administer some consolation. At last she put her arms round her neck,
and said, very softly—
"Susy!"
"What, dear?"
"Isn't Eddy an angel in heaven now? Mother says so."
"Yes, Polly, I hope he is."
"Then when you go to heaven, you will have a little angel of your own,
won't you?"
Susan seemed struck by these words. She took the little girl on her
lap, kissed her, and asked—
"How came you to think of that, Polly?"
"I don't know. I was thinking about it last night, and wondering how
it seemed to Eddy up there. Perhaps he will come to meet you the first
thing when you get there!"
"Perhaps I shall not go there," said Susan, diverted from her own
thoughts for a moment.
Pauline seemed struck by this supposition, and hesitated a moment with
a puzzled look. "Oh! But I think you will, for the Bible says, 'Where
your treasure is, there will your heart be also.' You know you always
called Eddy your treasure!"
From that hour might be dated the beginning of a thorough understanding
between Susan and Pauline, and the change was a happy one for both
of them. Pauline was no longer exposed to be unjustly found fault
with and opposed by her sister, as had formerly been too often the
case, and Edah found her plans for Polly's benefit no longer thwarted
by unreasonable interference on Susan's part. Susan was indeed much
altered every respect, and if her old perversity now and then appeared,
it was only in flashes, and seldom continued long. She was very sad for
a long time, and there were days when she scarcely spoke from morning
till night; but these gloomy intervals grew less and less frequent, and
she returned gradually to her former busy habits.
There was nothing now to keep anybody at home on Sundays, except when
Mrs. Champlin was more than usually unwell; and Susan was finally
prevailed upon, after a good deal of urging from Edah and coaxing from
Pauline, to join the Bible Class, which had increased till it numbered
nearly thirty members, all grown-up people; but a beginning once made,
she became very much interested, and never failed to attend when it was
possible.
It had now become a matter of course to have service twice a week in
the school-house, and many of those who at first ridiculed the idea of
a congregation being collected in Brooksville, would have been much
at a loss what to do with their Sunday mornings if Mr. Laurence had
ceased to ride over from Spring Bank. The school-house was becoming
overfilled, and there was talk of holding the services elsewhere, if a
suitable place could be found—a matter about which there seemed to be
some difficulty. Mr. Laurence was unwilling to make a change unless it
were decidedly for the better, at the same time that he foresaw that
some of his most cherished plans must be given up, unless some other
place than the school-house could be procured.
In the midst of the considerations upon the matter, it happened that
quite a number of those interested were one evening collected at
Mrs. Champlin's. Bob Raymond and Jack Downing—now as inseparable as
Damon and Pythias—had come in, as they often did, to hear the evening
reading. Mr. and Mrs. Bell followed, ostensibly to see what had become
of the boys. Mr. Bostwick happened to be passing, and seeing Mr. Bell
enter, he remembered something that he wished to say to him, and came
too. Sam was about to lay aside his book, but the gentlemen begged him
to go on, and he continued accordingly.
In the very middle of a paragraph, Bob, who was industriously working
away at a fishnet at a corner of the fire, suddenly dropped his needle,
and exclaimed, as if by a sudden inspiration,—
"I know what we can do!"
Sam stopped reading, and Mr. Bell, who had for some time appeared in
imminent danger of going to sleep, opened his eyes wide, and gazed at
his nephew in some astonishment.
"Do about what?" asked Sam, laughing.
"About the church," returned Bob, no ways abashed. "I know a plan that
will suit exactly if we can only get a little money to fix it up."
"If ifs and ands were pots and pans," said Mr. Bell—"But go ahead, Bob.
What plan do you mean?"
"Well, you know Mr. Champlin's old office—not the last one he had, but
the old land company's office, don't you? It isn't used at all now, and
some of the windows are broken, but in the main it is as good as ever.
Now, 'if' the partitions were taken out, and the walls mended, and 'if'
there was a pulpit and fixings, what's the reason it would not make a
nice little church?"
Mr. Bell and Mr. Bostwick looked at each other.
"Considering who brought you up, you are a pretty smart boy, Bob. I
shouldn't wonder of it was the best idea started yet. What do you say,
Brother Bostwick?"
"Well, I don't know," said Mr. Bostwick; "it depends on
circumstances—on how much rent we should have to pay, for one thing. I
suppose Stuart would let it go pretty cheap for such a purpose."
"I reckon he would," replied Mr. Bell, "particularly as he hasn't got
a cent out of it these five years. The walls and roof are good, as Bob
says, the glass is mostly broke out, and I think likely a good deal of
the plaster is off; but, amongst us, I reckon we could get up enough to
put it in pretty decent order. We should have to make a calculation,
and find out how much it would take, and then see how much we could
get towards it. 'Twould be a first-rate situation, that's a fact, and
I reckon it would hold about twice or three times as many as the old
school-house."
The reading was now laid aside, and the subject discussed in all its
bearings, and the more it was talked about, the more feasible it
appeared.
Mr. Bostwick thought he could furnish the mason work which would be
needed, and he was sure his brother-in-law would be willing to do, at
least, part of the painting. It was thought probable that Hildreth
would give part of the lumber necessary, and let them have the rest
cheap. They might depend upon the old doctor for something, though he
would grumble at being asked, and perhaps refuse at first. Strong would
do nothing to help them, and would hinder them if he could; but his
power was on the wane, and he was as afraid of the old Captain as he
was of—Well! On the whole, it was considered, as Mr. Bell said, to be
the best thing started yet.
"And what shall we do for it—we boys, I mean?" asked Jack, who had
hitherto been a silent listener to the conversation.
"As much as you like," said Mr. Bell. "I'll give you your time from now
till April—all the time you are out of school, I mean, of course, and
you can give your work. You are pretty smart at the tools, both of you,
and if Mr. Laurence is willing, you shall try your hands at pulpit and
reading-desk."
"Capital!" exclaimed Bob. "When shall we begin, uncle?"
"Not before to-morrow," said Mr. Bell; "and now as we have pretty much
disgusted the subject, as Mr. Warner says, I move we go home, for it is
getting time for honest folks to be abed. Good-night, young ladies, and
remember, if we get this scheme of Bob's agoing, we shall expect you to
turn to and do your share."