THE DAWNING OF LIGHT.
As sunshine falls upon a flower
That storms have beaten to the ground,
Her heart began to feel the power
Of his deep love and faith profound.
The sentence was pronounced; the time of execution fixed. Each morning,
as the prisoner awoke, he said to himself, another is gone; so many,
and so many days are left. I dare not say that this man did not
occasionally shrink from the agony that awaited him; or that the clouds
of doubt did not grow black above his head, more than once; but at all
times his mien was tranquil, his words full of resignation. Some hope,
some sublime faith, stronger than death, seemed to bear him up.
His daughter came to him more than once, and always left the cell with a
changed manner and subdued aspect. While there was a hope of saving the
prisoner, she had been excited and almost wild in her demeanor. She
appealed to the governor in person. She lavished gold. On every hand the
great power of her personal influence was all tested to the utmost, but
in vain. There exist cases in which the fangs of the law fasten deep,
and no human power can unloose them. In this instance, mercy veiled her
face, and justice became cruelty.
At no time did the old man sanction or partake of his daughter's
efforts. Shall I say, that he did not even desire them to succeed? One
sublime idea had taken possession of his mind, and when he prayed, it
was not that he might be saved from death, but that the pang which sent
him into eternity might open the gates of paradise to his child.
I have said that the old man was feeble, and scenes through which no
human being could pass with unshaken nerves, had gradually undermined
the little strength that age and privation had spared. Those who saw him
every day scarcely noticed this, the change was so gradual; but the
sheriff, who came but once each week, remarked how frail he was
becoming, and how difficult it was for him to support the irons with
which they had manacled his limbs. More than once he said to himself,
"It will scarcely be more than a shadow that they force me to strangle."
Still, as his strength gave way, the holy faith within him beamed out
stronger and brighter, as a flame becomes more brilliant from increased
purity of the oil on which it feeds.
All hope was gone--and Ada saw her father every day, always alone, and
her visits lasted for hours. At such times, Jacob Strong, who kept
sentinel at the door, would pause and hold his breath, struck, as it
were, by the sweet, solemn tones that came through the door. Sometimes
you might have seen him brush one huge hand across his eyes; and then,
bowing his head upon his bosom, pace slowly to and fro, with a mournful
but not altogether dissatisfied look.
After these visits, Ada would come forth with a subdued and gentle air,
which no person had ever witnessed in her before. The entire character
of her beauty changed. Her features became thin; her person lost
something of its roundness, but gained in that refined grace which is
indescribable. Her eyes grew darker and softer from the shadows that
deepened under them. Something of holy light there was too, that brooded
sadly there in place of the brilliancy that had kindled them so often
almost into wildness. If Ada had been beautiful when we first knew her,
she was far lovelier now. The heart yearned toward her as it felt the
glance of her eyes. The earthly was becoming purified from her being,
and the resemblance between her and the old man seemed to have found a
spiritual link. Truly the solemn faith within him was near its reward.