A GUILTY CONSCIENCE.
The next morning rose beautiful and bright and fair. The town was gay
as gay could be; flags were hung from almost every window, and the hum
of a great content seemed to fill the air.
In Violet's room all was still. The carriage had been pushed back into
the corner of the room, and the little girl was asleep. She had been
sleeping nearly all the morning; indeed so profound was her repose that
Evelina had grown nervous and summoned the doctor, whose carriage she
had seen outside the toy-shop door.
He came in quietly and stood beside the bed. The child's breathing was
quick and regular, and her hand lay softly open upon the counterpane.
"How long has she slept like this?" he asked in a low voice of Evelina,
who stood with tearful eyes near the window.
"Ever since last night when I put her to bed. It was the news of the
victory, sir, which I think upset her."
"Who told her of it?"
"Little Ella, sir, Madam Adler's daughter."
"Ah, of course, of course, children will talk; and she must have heard
it some time or other. Has she spoken at all since morning?"
"A few words, sir, but not much sense in them; about larks and flowers,
and about wings--she is always rambling on to me about having wings."
"She will soon have them," said the doctor shortly.
"What!" said Violet, opening her eyes suddenly and looking up; "is that
true? will Violet soon have wings?"
"Yes, my poor little child, very soon."
"Oh, how beautiful! how lovely!" she said with a sigh of the utmost
content. Then turning her head suddenly, she said quickly, "Fritz, dost
thou hear what the doctor says? Violet will soon have wings." Then she
closed her eyes again and fell asleep.
"We can do nothing for her," said the doctor, as he moved aside from
the bed. "This stupor that she has fallen into is the result of the
shock she received yesterday; for in her state good news is almost as
disturbing in its results as bad. I think she may awake out of this
sleep and be perhaps none the worse, but we cannot tell. God is very
merciful, and the thread of her life is in his hands."
"Yes, sir," said Evelina faintly.
"Has she spoken at all to-day of her father?"
"No, sir, not exactly; only once she said something about a great
victory, and smiled a little."
The doctor turned back and looked again at the quiet face on the
pillow, and repeated in a low voice several times the words, "A great
victory." "Yes, poor Violet! thy victory too is close at hand; and then
cometh the peace which passeth all understanding."
"I shall come again to-night," he said, as he turned away towards the
door; "and meanwhile no one must enter this room to disturb her, nor
must she be left alone for a moment. Remember, she has been intrusted
to your care by her father, and to mine, and we are responsible for
her."
"Yes, sir; I shall watch her very carefully," replied Evelina humbly.
When the doctor was gone, Evelina sat down on the chair by the stove
and cried bitterly, for a miserable feeling of guilt was over her. The
smile on Violet's face was more difficult for her to look at now than
the wakeful restlessness of pain and weariness; indeed everything in
the room seemed to reproach her this morning: the carriage standing in
the corner; the little brown hat with its wreath of buttercups, which
something in Evelina's heart told her would never be asked for again;
the cake, which had not been tasted; the window-sill littered with the
fallen animals which had been shaken from their usual resting-place by
the firing of the cannon; and a kind of dull consciousness resting over
all that the end was close at hand, and that the child lying so quietly
on the bed yonder was, oh so near heaven;--and she--where was she?
and what did she know of that peace which the doctor said passed all
understanding?
She stood up presently, and going over to the bed, opened the dead
mother's Bible. Between the leaves lay the picture which Violet loved
so much to look at. Evelina's eye fell on the centre plate, where
the little girl was represented seated all alone in the garret-room,
looking out over the roofs and the chimneys towards the far-off sky.
"All alone," she murmured, reading the print beneath it; then turned
on hastily, for it seemed to remind her painfully of her conduct
yesterday. Presently she came on the lock of golden hair which Violet
prized so highly, the long, glistening curl tied up with a knot of
black ribbon, and she lifted it up carefully and looked at it with
interest; then walking softly across to a little mirror which hung
against the wall, she laid it against her own golden curls, and said
under her breath, "Just the same colour." She put back the hair into
the Bible; and then some other thought following quickly on the
comparison, she went over to the trunk which stood beside Violet's bed,
and, lifting the lid noiselessly, drew out once more from the corner
the hat trimmed with the blue forget-me-nots, which she carried into
her own room and presently closed the door.
Meanwhile Violet, quite unconscious that her most precious possessions
were being ruthlessly trifled with in the adjoining chamber, slept
on quietly. She did not rouse up until quite late in the afternoon,
when she saw Evelina sitting in the window-seat as usual, and knitting
stockings for the Gützberg children.
"I am going soon to see father," she said softly; but at the words,
Evelina, who was in a reverie, started violently, and almost let the
knitting slip from her fingers.
"Aunt Lizzie will be glad when father comes home; will she not,
Evelina?"
"Yes, of course; every one will be glad."
"And the children, the little cousins at Gützberg,--will not they too
be delighted?"
"Oh, they are too young to know such things."
"But they will be watching all this time for thee to go back."
"So thou art thinking already of sending me back to Gützberg?"
"No, no," cried Violet, blushing hotly; "I do not want to send thee
away, only Aunt Lizzie said she could spare thee a little while, and
now it is so long since father went; and when he comes home he will
take care of me all day long, and never be the least bit tired; and I
will tell father how good thou hast been to me all this long time."
"I had a letter from thy aunt this morning," said Evelina, turning away
her face towards the window; "only a few lines. She is coming over here
in a few days to see thee; and probably if thy father returns I shall
go back with her. She sent thee her love, and she is making thee a
little cloak to wear when thou goest out in thy carriage."
"Ah, how good. I will wear it when father takes me out; that will not
be long to wait."
When the doctor came again in the evening, he was quite delighted with
the brightness of the little face, and with the rare happy smile which
was lighting up all its features.
Violet chatted to him more naturally than she had done for many a
long day. She showed him her carriage; and told him of the cloak
Aunt Lizzie was making for her; and laughed when she said how the
cannon-shot had thrown down Noah's wife and all the animals.
"I may see Ella to-morrow, may I not?" she asked wistfully, as he moved
towards the door.
"Certainly; if she is not too noisy."
"Oh, Ella is always good," she cried joyously; "and I am never lonely
when she is here."
Madam Adler, too, came across in the evening. Her heart was full of
anger against Evelina for having deserted her charge the day before;
but when she entered the room and found Violet sitting on Evelina's
knee by the stove, with her arms round the girl's neck, who was
singing to her, she thought the reprimand would be ill-timed, and she
determined to wait for a better opportunity.