POOR 'LINA
Drearily the morning dawned, but there were no bridal slumbers to be
broken, no bridal farewells said. There were indeed good-byes to be
spoken, for Anna was impatient to be gone. But for Adah, who must be
found, and Willie, who must be cared for, and Charlie, who was waiting
for her, she would have tarried longer, and helped to nurse the girl
whom she pitied so much. But even Alice said she had better go, and so
at an early hour she was ready to leave the house she had entered under
so unpleasant circumstances.
"I would like to see 'Lina," she said to Alice, who carried the request
to the sick room.
But 'Lina refused. "I can't," she said; "she hates, she despises me, and
she has reason. Tell her I was not worthy to be her sister; tell her
anything you like; but the doctor--oh, Alice, do you think he'll come,
just for a minute, before he goes?"
It was not a pleasant thing for the doctor to meet 'Lina now face to
face, for of course she wished to reproach him for his treachery. But
she did not--she thought only of herself; and when at last, urged on by
Anna and Alice, he entered into her presence, she only offered him her
hand at first, without a single word. He was shocked to find her so
sick, for a few hours had worked a marvelous change in her, and he
shrank from the bright eyes fixed so eagerly on his face.
"Oh Dr. Richards," she began at last, "if I loved you less it would not
be so hard to tell you what I must. I did love you, bad as I am, but I
meant to deceive you. It was for me that Adah kept silence at Terrace
Hill. Adah, I almost hate her for having crossed my path."
There was a fearfully vindictive gleam in the bright eyes now, and the
doctor shudderingly looked away, while 'Lina, with a soft tone,
continued: "You believed me rich, and whether you loved me afterward or
not, you sought me first for my money. I kept up the delusion, for in no
other way could I have won you. Dr. Richards, if I die, as perhaps I
may, I shall have one less sin for which to atone, if I confess to you
that instead of the heiress you imagined me to be, I had scarcely money
enough to pay my board at that hotel. Hugh, who himself is poor,
furnished what means I had, and most of my jewelry was borrowed. Do you
hear that? Do you know what you have escaped?"
She almost shrieked at the last.
"Go," she continued, "find your Adah. It's nothing but Adah now. I see
her name in everything. Hugh thinks of nothing else, and why should he?
She's his sister, and I--oh! I'm nobody but a beggarly servant's brat. I
wish I was dead! I wish I was dead! and I will be pretty soon."
This was their parting, and the doctor left her room a soberer, sadder
man than he had entered it. Half an hour later, and he, with Anna, was
fast nearing Versailles, where they were joined by Mr. Millbrook, and
together the three started on their homeward route.
Rapidly the tidings flew, told in a thousand different ways, and the
neighborhood was all on fire with the strange gossip. But little cared
they at Spring Bank for the storm outside, so fierce a one was beating
at their doors, that even the fall of Sumter failed to elicit more than
a casual remark from Hugh, who read without the slightest emotion the
President's call for seventy-five thousand men. Tenderer than a brother
was Hugh to the sick girl upstairs, staying by her so patiently that
none save Alice ever guessed how he longed to be free and join in the
search for Adah. To her it had been revealed by a few words accidentally
overheard. "Oh, Adah, sister, I know that I could find you, but my duty
is here."
This was what he said, and Alice felt her heart throb with increased
respect for the unselfish man, who gave no other token of his impatience
to be gone, but stayed home hour after hour in that close, feverish
room, ministering to all of 'Lina's fancies, and treating her as if no
word of disagreement had ever passed between them. Night after night,
day after day, 'Lina grew worse, until at last, there was no hope, and
the council of physicians summoned to her side said that she would die.
Then Densie softened again, but did not go near the dying one. She could
not be sent away a second time, so she stayed in her own room, which
witnessed many a scene of agonizing prayer, for the poor girl passing so
surely to another world.
"God save her at the last. God let her into heaven," was the burden of
shattered Densie's prayer, while Alice's was much like it, and Hugh,
too, more than once bowed his head upon the burning hands he held, and
asked that space might be given her for repentance, shuddering as he
recalled the time when, like her, he lay at death's door, unprepared to
enter in. Was he prepared now? Had he made a proper use of life and
health restored? Alas! that the answer conscience forced upon him should
have wrung out so sharp a groan. "But I will be," he said, and laying
his own face by 'Lina's, he promised that if God would bring her reason
back, so they could tell her of the untried world her feet were nearing,
he would henceforth be a better man, and try to serve the God who heard
and answered that earnest prayer.
It was many days ere the fever abated, but there came a morning in early
May when the eyes were not so fearfully bright as they had been, while
the wild ravings were hushed, and 'Lina lay quietly upon her pillow.
"Do you know me?" Alice asked, bending gently over her, while Hugh, from
the other side of the bed, leaned eagerly forward for the reply.
"Yes, Alice, but where am I? This is not New York--not my room. Have
I--am I sick, very sick?" and 'Lina's eyes took a terrified expression
as she read the truth in Alice's face. "I am not going to die, am I?"
she continued, casting upon Alice a look which would have wrung out the
truth, even if Alice had been disposed to withhold it, which she was
not.
"You are very sick," she answered, "and though we hope for the best, the
doctor does not encourage us much. Are you willing to die, 'Lina?"
Neither Hugh nor Alice ever forgot the tone of 'Lina's voice as she
replied:
"Willing? No!" or the expression of her face, as she turned it to the
wall, and motioned them to leave her.
For two days after that she neither spoke nor gave other token of
interest in anything passing around her, but at the expiration of that
time, as Alice sat by her, she suddenly exclaimed:
"Forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us.
I wish He had said that some other way, for if that means we cannot be
forgiven until we forgive everybody, there's no hope for me, for I
cannot, I will not forgive Densie Densmore for being my mother, neither
will I forgive Adah Hastings for having crossed my path. If she had
never seen the doctor I should have been his wife, and never have known
who or what I was. I hate them both, Densie and Adah, so you need not
pray for me. I heard you last night, and even Hugh has taken it up, but
it's no use. I can't forgive."
'Lina was very much excited--so much indeed, that Alice could not talk
with her then; and for days this was the burden of her remarks. She
could not forgive Densie and Adah, and until she did, there was no use
for her or any one else to pray. But the prayers she could not say for
herself were said for her by others, while Alice omitted no proper
occasion for talking with her personally on the subject she felt to be
all-important. Nor were these efforts without their effect; the bitter
tone when speaking of Densie ceased at last, and Alice was one day
surprised at 'Lina's asking to see her, together with Mrs. Worthington.
Timidly, Densie approached the bed from which she had once been so
angrily dismissed. But there was nothing to fear now from the white,
wasted girl, whose large eyes fastened themselves a moment on the
wrinkled face; then with a shudder, closed tightly, while the lip
quivered with a grieved, suffering expression. She did not say to poor
old Densie that she acknowledged her as a mother, or that she felt for
her the slightest thrill of love. She was through with deception; and
when, at last, she spoke to the anxiously waiting woman, it was only to
say:
"I wanted to tell you that I have forgiven you; but I cannot call you
mother. You must not expect it. I know no mother but this one," and the
white hand reached itself toward Mrs. Worthington, who took it
unhesitatingly and held it between her own, while 'Lina continued: "I've
given you little cause to love me, and I know how glad you must be that
another, and not I, is your real daughter. I did not know what made me
so bad, but I understand it now. I saw myself so plainly in that man's
eyes; it was his nature in me which made me so hateful to Hugh. Oh,
Hugh! the memory of what I've been to him is the hardest part of all,"
and covering her face with the sheet, 'Lina wept bitterly; while Hugh,
who was standing behind her, laid his warm hand on her head, smoothing
her hair caressingly, as he said:
"Never mind that, 'Lina; I, too, was bad to you. If 'Lina can forgive
me, I surely can forgive 'Lina."
There was the sound of convulsive sobbing; and then, uncovering her
face, 'Lina raised herself up, and laying her hand on Hugh's bosom,
answered through her tears:
"I wish I had always felt as I do now. Hugh, you don't know how bad I've
been. Why, I used to be ashamed to call you brother, if any fine people
were near."
There was a sparkle of indignation in Alice's blue eyes.
"You have no cause to be ashamed of Hugh," she said, quickly, the tone
of her voice coming like a revelation to 'Lina, who scanned her face
eagerly, and then, turning, looked curiously up to Hugh.
"I'm glad, I'm glad," she whispered, "for I know now you are worthy even
of her."
"You are mistaken, 'Lina," Hugh said, huskily, while 'Lina continued;
"And, Hugh, I must tell you more, how bad I've been. You remember the
money you sent to Adah last summer in mother's letter. I kept the whole.
I burned the letter, and mother never saw it. I bought jewelry with
Adah's money. I did so many things, I--I--it goes from me now. I can't
remember all. Oh, must I confess the whole, everything, before I can
say, 'Forgive us our trespasses?'"
"No, 'Lina. Unless you can repair some wrong, you are not bound to tell
every little thing. Confession is due to God alone," Alice whispered to
the agitated girl, who looked bewildered, as she answered back: "But
God knows all now, and you do not; besides, I can't feel sorry toward
Him as I do toward others. I try and try, but the feeling is not
there--the sorry feeling, I mean, as sorry as I want to feel."
"God, who knows our feebleness, accepts our purposes to do better, and
gives us strength to carry them out," Alice whispered, again bending
over 'Lina, on whose pallid, distressed face a ray of hope for a moment
shone.
"I have good purposes," she murmured; "but I can't, I can't. I don't
know as they are real; maybe, if I get well, they would not last, and
it's all so dark, so desolate--nothing to make life desirable--no home,
no name, no friends--and death is so terrible. Oh, Hugh, Hugh! don't let
me go. You are strong; you can hold me back, even from Death himself;
and I can be good to you; I can feel on that point, and I tell you truly
that, standing as I am with the world behind and death before, I see
nothing to make life desirable, but you, Hugh, my noble, my abused
brother. To make you love me, as I hope I might, is worth living for.
You would stand by me, Hugh--you, if no one else, and I wish I could
tell you how fast the great throbs of love keep coming to my heart. Dear
Hugh, Hugh, Brother Hugh, don't let me die--hold me fast."
With an icy shiver, she clung closer to Hugh, as if he could indeed do
battle with the king of terror stealing slowly into that room.
"Somebody say 'Our Father,'" she whispered, "I can't remember how it
goes."
"Do you forgive and love everybody?" Alice asked, sighing as she saw the
bitter expression flash for an instant over the pinched features, while
the white lips answered: "Not Adah, no, not Adah."
Alice could not pray after that, not aloud at least, and a deep silence
fell upon the group assembled around the deathbed. 'Lina slept at last,
slept quietly on Hugh's strong arm, and gradually the hard expression on
the face relaxed, giving way to one of quiet peace, and Densie, watching
her anxiously, whispered beneath her breath: "See, the Murdock is all
gone, and her face is like a baby's face. Maybe she would call me mother
now."
Poor Densie! Eagerly she waited for the close of that long sleep, her
eye the first to note that it was ended, and 'Lina awake again. Still
the silence remained unbroken, while 'Lina seemed lost to all else save
the thoughts burning at her breast--thoughts which brought a quiver to
her lips, and forced out upon her brow great drops of sweat, which
Densie wiped away, unnoticed, it may be, or at least unrebuked. The
noonday sun of May was shining broadly into the room, but to 'Lina it
was night, and she said to Alice, now kneeling at her side: "It's
growing dark; they'll light the street lamps pretty soon, and the band
will play in the yard, but I shall not hear them. New York and Saratoga
are a great ways off, and so is Terrace Hill. Tell him I meant to
deceive him, but I did love him. Tell Adah I do forgive her, and I would
like to see her, for she is my half-sister. The bitter is all gone. I am
in charity with everybody, everybody. May I say 'Our Father' now? It
goes and comes, goes and comes, forgive our trespasses, my trespasses;
how is it, Hugh? Say it with me once, and you, too, mother."
She did not look toward Densie, but her hand fell off that way, and
Densie, with a low cry began with Hugh the soothing prayer in which
'Lina joined feebly, throwing in ejaculatory sentences of her own.
"I forgive Densie Densmore; I forgive Adah, Adah, everybody. Forgive my
trespasses then as I forgive those that trespass against me. Bless Hugh,
dear Hugh, noble Hugh. Forgive us our trespasses, forgive us our
trespasses, our trespasses, forgive my trespasses, me, forgive,
forgive."
It was the last word which ever passed 'Lina's lips, "Forgive, forgive,"
and Hugh, with his ear close to the lips, heard the faint murmur even
after the hands had fallen from his neck where in the last struggle they
had been clasped, and after the look which comes but once to all had
settled on her face. That was the last of 'Lina, with that cry for
pardon she passed away, and though it was but a deathbed repentance,
and she, the departed, had much need for pardon, Alice and the
half-acknowledged mother clung to it as to a ray of hope, knowing how
tender and full of compassion was the blessed Savior, even to those who
turn not to Him until the river of death is bearing them away. Very
gently Hugh laid the dead girl back upon the pillow, and leaving one
kiss on her white forehead, hurried away to his own room, where, unseen
to mortal eye, he could ask for knowledge to give himself aright to the
God who had come so near to them.
There were no noisy outbursts among the negroes when told their young
mistress was dead, for 'Lina had not been greatly loved. The sight of
Alice's swollen eyes and tear-stained face affected Mug, it is true, but
even she could not cry until she had coaxed old Uncle Sam to repeat to
her, for the twentieth time, the story of Bethlehem's little children
slain, by order of the cruel Herod. This story, told in old Sam's
peculiar way, had the desired effect, and the tears which refused to
start even at the sight of 'Lina dead, flowed freely for the little ones
over whom Rachel wept, refusing to be comforted.
"I can cry dreffully now, Miss Alice, I'se sorry, Miss 'Lina is dead,
very sorry. She never can come back any more, can she?" Mug sobbed,
running up to Alice, and hiding her face in her dress.
And this was about as real as any grief expressed by the blacks for
'Lina. Poor 'Lina, she had taken no pains to win affection while she was
living, and she could not expect to be missed much when she was gone.
Hugh mourned for her the most, more even than his mother or Densie
Densmore--the latter of whom seemed crazier than ever, shutting herself
entirely in her room, and refusing to be present at the funeral. 'Lina
had been ashamed of her, she said, and she would not disgrace her by
claiming relationship now that she was dead, so with eyes whose
blackness was dimmed by tears, she watched from her window the
procession moving from the yard, across the fields, and out to the
hillside, where the Spring Bank dead were buried, and where on the last
day of blooming, beautiful May, they laid 'Lina to rest, forgetting all
her faults, and speaking only kindly words of her as they went slowly
back to the house, from which she had gone forever.