WINGS AT LAST.
Violet waited and listened until the last sound of Evelina's footsteps
had died away, and then she fell into a sudden reverie. Her eyes
remained fixed on the rails at the foot of her bed, and she neither
moved nor spoke--only now and then a little shiver seemed to pass over
her, and she sighed heavily, and her eyebrows were contracted with pain.
A sudden sense of great loneliness had come over her, and with it a
swift remembrance of her dear mother, the mother who had been carried
out through that very door by which Evelina had that moment passed out,
and who had never returned to her any more. Ah, had she been here now,
she would have listened to her cries; she would have carried her in her
arms to the fountain. She would have lifted her up so tenderly, and
held her tightly, oh so tightly to her breast; and together they would
have listened to the angels singing.
And then again came the recollection of that dream, when the Lord Jesus
had met her in the meadow, and had shown her the little lamb which he
was carrying in his bosom--the little lamb with the white face, so like
Violet. And she remembered the sound of his voice, as he said to her so
softly, "See, she has fallen asleep, and I am going to lay her in her
mother's arms."
Ah, if Violet could fall asleep like that poor tired lamb, and awake
in the arms of her dear mother, whose face she had not seen for so
long--oh so long, yes, long, long ago! Again that thrilling shiver
passed over her, and the little face grew pale.
"Mother!" she cried--"mother! canst thou not hear me, mother? Mother!
mother!" It rose higher and higher now, the wail of a child's despair.
But, hark! what was that other sound without? Music--voices--a burst of
sudden song somewhere not far off. Violet ceased to cry, and listened
with large dilated eyes, from which the pain of the past moment had not
yet departed.
"The angels! the angels! I hear them singing!" she cried, starting up
in an ecstasy of delight. "They are singing at the fountain; I can hear
them. And Ella is with them, and she has wings. Ah, if some one could
lift me gently and put me in my chair at the window!--Kate, Kate, come
to Violet; come quickly."
She had not long to wait for an answer to her call, for as she cried
aloud for Kate, the old servant pushed open the door, and walked in.
She had not come, however, at Violet's summons. She held a red-coloured
envelope in her hand, and she looked round the room anxiously and
somewhat angrily.
"So; it is just as I thought. That little conceited minx has gone out,
and left the child all alone. I just caught a sight of the hat as she
whirled by the window, and I knew well where it came from."
"Kate, Kate, listen to the angels. They are singing at the fountain. If
thou speakest so loud, I cannot hear them."
"Ay, ay; I hear them well enough. But who is to open this telegram and
tell us what is in it?"
"Ah, Kate, do not mind what is in it. Lift me in thy arms, dear Kate,
and put me in my chair by the window."
"Well, have patience a moment, and I will see if I can make out the
words. I am a regular blockhead at reading; but the messenger is
waiting at the door to see if there is any answer, and that silly girl
may not be back for an hour."
Kate turned a little aside, as she tore open the envelope, and looked
back a moment at Violet with an evident nervousness of manner.
"Ah, God be thanked! it is no bad news. It is from the good lady at
Gützberg. She will be here this afternoon."
But Violet did not hear one word Kate said. A great hope was rising
in her bosom. The sound of the angels' voices was drawing nearer
and nearer, and she could now almost catch the very words they were
singing. It was growing clear to her that the procession must be
advancing up the street.
"Kate, Kate, where art thou going?" she cried suddenly, as the old
servant moved towards the door. "Wilt thou not carry Violet across to
her chair?"
"Yes, yes, in a moment. I am only going to the street door, and I shall
be back immediately."
By the time she returned to the room Violet's cheeks were burning with
excitement, and there was a look in her eyes which almost frightened
the old servant.
"Lift me to the window!" she cried, almost passionately. "The angels
are coming! they have wings! I must see them! they are coming up the
street!"
Kate held out her arms quickly to the child; but her heart sank as
she noticed the crimson cheeks, and the eyes which looked at her and
yet did not seem to see her, so full were they of some deep and
overpowering excitement.
"Quick, quick! they are in the street!" she repeated feverishly.
"Ay, ay, they are in the street, that is true enough; but have
patience, dear heart. There is time enough yet. They are not so near as
thou thinkest."
Still Violet repeated the same words furiously--"Quick, quick! they are
in the street! they are in the street!"--until Kate had taken her in
her arms and carried her into the window.
"Do not put me in the chair; put me on the seat in the middle of the
window," she cried eagerly, as Kate would have deposited her in her
usual place. "Violet can see so much better all up and down the street,
and thou canst put thy arms round me, and hold me so tightly;--is it
not so, Kate?" She turned round quickly, and put her burning lips
against the old woman's cheek: "The good Lord Jesus holds the sick
lambs ever so closely in his arms; and I am one of his lambs, for I saw
its face--oh so white!--and it was Violet's."
"Dear heart, she is crazed!" muttered Kate to herself.--"There now; sit
down on the seat, and I will hold thee tightly, I warrant."
"The angels! I see them! they are dressed in white! They are coming
nearer and nearer! Kate, canst thou not see them too?"
Violet clutched at the wooden box full of sweet violets, which stood on
the window-sill outside, and drew herself forward with a sudden access
of strength. The box, which was bound by many a cobweb to the mullioned
stone, moved one inch or so, and rocked ominously. Two white pigeons,
which were preening their feathers on the ledge just beside it, flew
away frightened, and perched on the roof opposite.
"Kate, Kate, I see Ella! She is waving her hand to me; there is a crown
in it. Dost thou not see?--a crown of gold. She is holding it out to
me."
"Ay, ay; I see Miss Ella. How fat she looks; and cold too, poor child!
her arms look quite blue in her thin white dress."
"Ah, she looks beautiful--the angels of God are all beautiful. They fly
about in heaven and have no pain, Kate. And look at Ella's wings how
they shine. Stand up straight, Kate, and thou wilt see better."
[Illustration: The Procession. _Page 275_.]
Kate leaned a little forward over the child's head and looked out.
"Yes, yes; one would almost think that they were real. But here is
another messenger coming to the door with a telegram, and there is no
one downstairs to take it from him."
"Thou canst go down," cried Violet eagerly. "I am quite safe here in
the window, and quite, quite comfortable."
"Thou art sure, dear heart?"
"Yes; I can hold on by the box until thou comest back."
Here all at once the children's voices burst forth in the street
beneath, and in a delicious harmony took up the melodious hymn,--
"Angels of Jesus,
Angels of light,
Singing to welcome
The pilgrims of night."
Ella's clear treble rose up high, high into the air, and seemed to
enter in at the very window.
Violet, clutching unconsciously at the box in front of her, drew
herself more forward, till at length she was leaning over the
sweet-scented leaves, and could see well down into the street beneath.
There was a hush now among the crowd, for all the people gathered in
the space below, listening entranced to the sweet childish treble as it
rose higher and higher in its anxiety that the song should reach the
ear of one the child loved. But all at once the song ceased, and a cry
came from her parted lips--"See, see! look up! Violet is at the window,
and she will fall."
The white-robed procession paused for a moment at the shrill scream
of the child, and all heads were turned up to see what was the cause
of her anguish, while at the same moment a woman's voice, uplifted
in sudden terror, cried passionately from amongst them, "Violet! ah,
wicked child; go back. What art thou doing?"
But Violet did not see the upturned faces, nor hear Evelina's cry of
terror-struck reproach. She was alike unconscious of rebuke or fear,
for in the street beneath her were gathered a glorious company of
angels. Their raiment, white and glistening, dazzled her aching eyes;
their crowns of gold seemed all on fire; while the voices of a great
multitude rang in her ears in sweet, melodious invitation,--
"Come, weary soul;
Jesus bids thee come."
To Violet it was no longer the hot and dusty streets of Edelsheim
on which she gazed. She did not see the rocking crowd or the terror
imprinted now on every upturned face. No; those who caught a glimpse of
her at this moment knew that she saw none of them--that some heavenly
vision held her inthralled and amazed. Her lips were white; her eyes
burned; she spoke, yet no one heard, till all at once she stretched out
her arms with a cry of surpassing ecstasy, and exclaimed, "Mother,
dear mother, see! look up! here is Violet."
Then all the people knew what was coming, for the child as she uttered
the last words had fallen forward upon the box. It was hopeless to
think that Evelina with all her efforts could reach the room in time.
The wooden box had turned over on its side, and the loosened clay and
the fragrant flowers rattling over their heads and faces gave them
timely warning to retreat.
The crowd surged to each side; the angels, who had ceased their
singing, recoiled with a terrified rapidity to the farther side of
the street. Only one person, with a courageous presence of mind
and a fearless love, rushed from amongst them to stay the terrible
catastrophe.
But was it, after all, so terrible that the women should faint, and
the angels hide their faces in their hands? Only a flutter of a purple
frock, a glimpse of golden hair, preceded by a sudden crash as the box
of violets fell splintered on the pavement beneath. Then all looked
upwards with a scream. But Violet was in the arms of the old policeman,
and the shining yellow locks were hanging loosely over his shoulder.
A crowd gathered round him quickly, and the people pressed upon him,
while some of the little angels in their silver shoes stood on tiptoe
that they might, perchance, catch one glimpse of that white, white face.
Yes, it was white and still, and sad enough to look upon.
"Keep back," cried the policeman sternly, "and let the child have room
to breathe."
"She will never breathe again," said the voice of a woman by his side;
"the child is stone dead; we can see that for ourselves." It was Madam
Adler who spoke, and she held Fritz by the hand, whose face was gray
and rigid with fear and horror.
"Keep back, I say; she is not dead. For pity's sake let the child have
air!"
There was a slight retrograde movement and then a general start of
wonder. Violet had opened her eyes!
For a second, hope rose in every breast; for a smile glimmered and
flickered over the poor pale face, and the lips moved. She lifted the
drooping arm which had hung so listlessly by her side, and laid it for
a moment upon the faithful breast of the old policeman. "My friend,"
she said softly, and looked up into his eyes with a gaze which was
terrible in its steadfastness of love; then the eyelids closed quietly
again, and the smile died out.
A hush fell on all the people. Surely this was death.
But there was still a breath, and the little purple frock heaved
slowly, and the frill of the white pinafore quivered with a thrilling
motion.
All at once she moved, turned her head quickly towards the street, and
strove to raise herself in the arms of her friend.
"Fritz, Fritz!" she cried eagerly, in a strange uplifted voice full of
a strong appeal.
"Yes, here is Fritz; what is it, dear Violet?"
"Fritz is here," he replied faintly, lifting up an ashen face towards
hers.
But Violet's eyes were wide open now, and full of a wonderful joy.
They travelled straight up over the housetops and the golden crown of
the hill towards the bright blue sky, as if following some vision of
delight.
"Fritz!"--it was now a cry of triumph--"it is all quite true. See! look
up yonder, high, high up. Ah, seest thou not now Violet has wings?"
All the people with a common consent looked upward as she spoke; but
there was nothing there to see but God's blue heaven and a speck of
golden cloud sailing slowly past across the mountain top.
When they turned back again they knew then that the child was dead;
for the eyes, full still of that strange purple wonder, were immovably
fixed upon the far off heavens, and the awe and majesty of death were
creeping into them as the light of life died out.
"Free at last," said the policeman, lifting up his face with a strange
grim smile towards the distant sky. "She has escaped like a bird from
its cage, and is gone up yonder."
There was nothing more to wait for now. The policeman turned towards
the door of Violet's house and carried her away from their eyes. The
procession, re-forming, moved mournfully onwards. Some women in the
street snatched up bunches of the violets which lay scattered about
over the road, and thrust them into their bosoms.
But Madam Adler, Fritz, and little Ella in her silver shoes and shining
wings, remained behind, and they and many others followed the old
policeman and his burden up the stairs; and Madam Adler, pushing her
way on in front, opened the door of the kitchen to allow him to pass
in. But there on the threshold they were met by Kate, behind whom stood
the form of Evelina rigid with horror and dismay.
"Is it all over?" cried the old woman distractedly--"is the child
dead?--tell me now at once, is our Violet dead?"
"Yes, quite dead."
"Thou art certain?"
"Yes, quite certain."
"Then God be praised for all his mercies. She will never know this
new trouble which has fallen upon us. Her father is gone also." She
held out her hand vaguely towards them all with an open telegraph form
crumpled up in her fingers. Madam Adler snatched it from her and read
the words, "John was killed this morning in repulsing with his company
a sortie of the enemy from the town of Metz."