ANNIE'S DEATH--ANNORAH'S PROSPECTS.
On every pleasant evening Biddy Dillon's cottage was thronged by those
who came to listen to the Word of God. It was in vain that Father
M'Clane opposed these meetings. His threats and arguments, once so
potent, seemed now but to lessen his power. He even secured the
services of a neighbouring priest, and with him visited each Irish
family in succession, coaxing and flattering where his authority was
not acknowledged. But, alas for him and his prospects! he could do
nothing with the people.
The Protestant clergyman of the village, when he heard of the interest
felt in lame Phelim's reading, readily came to their assistance, and
joyfully read and explained the divine lessons. As their knowledge of
the right way increased, their impressions of its importance to them
personally were deepened, and Annorah soon had the happiness of seeing
not only her mother and brother bowing at the foot of the cross of
Christ, but many others earnestly seeking the salvation of their
souls.
The little Irish neighbourhood had been named New Dublin. It stood
quite by itself, a thick belt of wood and the narrow mill-stream
isolating it from the large village, where Mr. Lee's residence stood.
Nothing but the smoke, which in summer as well as in winter is ever
pouring from Irish chimneys, revealed to a visitor the existence of
their pleasant hamlet. Still it was not so far retired but that, when
a wake was held for the dead, the noise of the revelry seriously
disturbed their quieter neighbours; and when a row ensued, as was
often the case, the distant uproar alarmed as well as annoyed the
timid women and children. But no one thought of interfering. The
wealthy owners of the iron-works and factories in the vicinity were
glad to secure their labour, because of its cheapness, and never
troubled themselves about an occasional noise, if the general
interests of their business were not neglected.
There were not wanting those who pitied their low estate, and who
would have sincerely rejoiced in their elevation; but until poor
invalid Annie Lee began to instruct Annorah, no one had dreamed of
winning them, by self-sacrifice and kindness, to a knowledge of the
truth. Annie herself, while patiently explaining over and over again
what seemed to her as simple and plain as possible, little imagined
the glorious results that were indirectly to grow out of her feeble
efforts. But God watches the least attempt to do good, and fosters the
tiniest seed sown; and Annie, without knowing it, was sowing seed for
a plenteous harvest.
But while the good work prospered, she herself was rapidly ripening
for heaven. She knew that she was hastening to a better land, even a
heavenly; and she strove to improve every moment of the time that
remained, in efforts to give stability to Annorah's religious
feelings. Many were the conversations that they had together on the
condition of the poor Irish people, and countless almost were the
directions that Annorah received in regard to the best methods of
winning their love and confidence. Young as she was, Annie had
learned that all efforts to benefit the unfortunate or ignorant are
vain so long as the cold shoulder is turned towards them. She had
proved in Annorah's case the magic effect of loving words and
sympathy.
As the spring advanced, Annie grew weaker. The mild air seemed to
enervate rather than to brace her system, and she grew daily more
emaciated. Her paroxysms of pain were less frequent, and she suffered
most from languor and drowsiness. It was apparent to all but her fond
parents that her days were numbered. They watched over her with the
tenderest affection, hoping when there was no hope, and persuading
themselves and each other that she would rally again when the ripe
summer brought its gentle breezes and beautiful blossoms.
"She is so fond of flowers and of the open air," said Mrs. Lee to
Annorah, when, after an unusually restless and painful day, Annie had
fallen asleep at last, and both left the room to breathe the fresh
evening air. "When the weather gets settled so that she can let you
draw her little carriage down by the mill-stream again, she will
brighten up and get stronger. It is enough to make a well person ill,
to be shut up so long."
"Ye know best, shure," said Annorah, in her grief resuming her
national accent and brogue--"Ye know best, but it's thinner and weaker
she's getting, and is a baby for weight in me arms. Och! the dark day
it will be for poor Norah when she looks her last on that swate angel
face!" And the poor girl burst into tears, and covered her face with
her apron. After a few moments she went on to say,--"It'll go hard wi'
ye all, Mrs. Lee: ye'll miss her dear ways an' her heavenly smiles;
she is yer own blood, were she not an angel intirely. But oh, ma'am,
she's been to me what no words can tell; and the short life o' me will
seem without end till I go to wait on her above. Oh, what'll I do
without her, when the whole world is dark as night?"
Mrs. Lee could not reply, for she, too, was weeping. There was
something in Annorah's desolate tone that went to her heart, and
inspired a pitying affection for the plain-looking girl by her side,
which she would once have thought impossible. She began to comprehend
the mystery of Annie's caressing manner to her young nurse.
"Annorah, my poor girl," she faltered at length.
"Ah, ma'am, in all me troubles, and when I was wickedest, was it not
her voice that was full and sweet with the pleasant encouragement? Oh,
core o' me heart, acushla, what'll I do? what'll I do?"
"We must trust in God, Annorah. If he takes her from us, it will be
for the best, and we must learn to say, 'His will be done.' She will
leave us her lovely example to guide us, and we shall not forget how
she strove to do good. We shall be lonely; but is it not selfish in us
to wish her to stay here and suffer? God knows what is best for us
all."
It was but a little time that they were permitted to hope. Fair Annie
Lee's appointed work was done, her mission of love was accomplished,
and she was ready to depart. Shut up by her protracted illness from
all the ordinary paths of usefulness, she had found out a way to work
in her Saviour's service. Long will it be ere her gentle acts of
kindness will be forgotten, or her precious influence cease to be felt
by those who knew her.
She died suddenly, perhaps unconsciously at last. Annorah had placed
her couch so that she could see the beautiful changes in the rich June
sunset; and when she returned after a moment's absence to her side,
she found that, with a sweet smile of joyous triumph on her lips, she
had fallen asleep in Jesus.
* * * * *
Annorah, although greatly refined by reading and association with
educated people, and especially improved by the happy influence of
true religion, yet retains enough of the characteristics of her nation
to make her an acceptable visitor in the humblest cottage in New
Dublin. It was long after the death of her young mistress before she
regained her usual cheerfulness. But time, the great healer of sorrow,
has gradually softened her grief, and made her cherished memories of
Miss Annie, like beautiful pictures, very pleasant to look upon.
FINIS
Transcriber's Note
Minor typographic punctuation errors have been corrected without note.
The frontispiece illustration has been moved to follow the title page.
There is a large amount of dialect in this book, which all remains as
printed in the original text. This includes some variable spelling,
e.g. crather--crathur, plase--plaze.
Page 55--Sharron amended to Shannon--"... and rinsed in the Shannon at
Athlone ..."