GOOD-BYE.
The birds did not know what to make of it. At first--for several
days--they flew at the windows, as they were in the habit of doing when
they felt that a little change from worms would be pleasant. It had
come to be an understood thing that when they came to the places where
the air was hard, they should flap and beat against it with wings and
beak. Then their friend would push up the hard air, or open his tree
and come out, and would scatter food for them, food which they could
not name, but which was easy and pleasant to eat, and did not wriggle.
Then they would flutter about him, and perch on head and hand and
shoulder, and tell him all the news. He was always interested to hear
how the nest was getting on, and how many eggs there were; and later,
of the extraordinary beauty and virtue of the nestlings. He listened to
all the forest gossip with evident pleasure, and often made noises as
if he were trying to reply; though, having no bill, of course he only
produced uncouth sounds. He meant so well, though, and was so liberal
with his food, that all loved him, and not the youngest titmouse ever
thought of making fun of him.
Now he was gone, and the birds did not know what to make of it. They
flew and beat against the hard air spaces, but there was no movement
within. They consulted the squirrels, and the squirrels went and told
Simeon Stylites, who came down from his pillar in distress, and climbed
down the hard red hollow tree that stood on top of the house. He was
gone some time, and when he reappeared the squirrels and birds screamed
and chattered in affright, for he had gone down a gray squirrel, and he
came up black as a crow. But he soothed them, and explained that the
inside of the tree was covered with black fur which came off on him.
Moreover, all was as usual in the place below where their friend lived;
only, he was not there. He had found some nuts, but intended to keep
them for his trouble; and so he departed.
For a long time the birds called and sang and swooped about the house;
but no friendly face appeared, no voice answered their call, no hand
scattered the daily dole. The creepers rustled and swung their green
tendrils down over the house, but it remained senseless, silent,
crouched against the wall of gray rock behind it.
* * * * *
So it stands, and the forest blooms and fades and shrivels round it,
year after year. Only, once in every year, when the mayflowers are
blossoming warm and rosy under the brown leaves, the owner of the
house comes back to it. Comes with weary step and careworn brow,--life
being so full, and the rush of it bringing more work and thought and
anxiety than the days can hold,--yet with serene countenance, and eves
full of quiet peace, ready to break on the instant into light and
laughter. In his hand he brings the child, growing every year into new
beauty, new grace, and brightness. And there for a happy week they live
and play, and wash the pretty dishes, and feed the birds, and milk the
brown cow which is always mysteriously there in the pasture, ready to
be milked.
"Do you know, Mark?" said the child once, when they had patted the cow,
and were turning away with their shining pail full--the child was a big
girl now, but she had the same inconsequent way of talking--
"Know what, Snow-white?"
"I really did think perhaps she was a Princess, that first time. Wasn't
that funny?" she bubbled over with laughter, just the old way.
"But we can play just as well now, can't we, Mark?"
"Just as well, Snow-white."
"And I am not so horribly big, Mark, am I?"
"Not yet, Snow-white. Not yet, my big little girl."
"But you will love me just the same if I do get horribly big, Mark?"
"Just the same, Snow-white! a little more every year, to allow for
growth."
"Because I can't help it, you know, Mark."
"Surely not, my dear. Surely Mark would not have you help it."
"But always I shall be the right size for you, Mark, and always you
will be my own dwarf?"
"Always and always, Snow-white!"
"Because I love you!" says the child.
So the two saunter back through the wood, and the ferns unroll beside
their path, and the mayflowers peep out at them from under the leaves,
and overhead the birds flit and the squirrels frisk, and all is as it
has always been in the good green wood.
Only, when the milk is carefully set away, Mark Ellery comes out of the
house, and stands under the great buttonwood-tree, silent, with bent
head. And seeing him so, the girl comes out after him, and puts her
arms around his neck, and leans her head on his breast, and is silent
too; for she knows he is saying his prayer, the prayer that is now this
long time his life, that she means shall guide and raise her own life,
and bring it a little nearer his. "Even there shall thy hand lead me,
and thy right hand shall hold me!"
THE END.
* * * * *
_Books by Laura E. Richards._
"Mrs. Richards has made for herself a little niche apart in the
literary world, from her delicate treatment of New England village
life."--_Boston Post._
THE CAPTAIN JANUARY SERIES
CAPTAIN JANUARY.
A charming idyl of New England coast life, whose success has been very
remarkable. One reads it, is thoroughly charmed by it, tells others,
and so its fame has been heralded by its readers, until to-day it
is selling by the thousands, constantly enlarging the circle of its
delighted admirers.
MELODY. The Story of a Child.
"Had there never been a 'Captain January,' 'Melody' would easily take
first place."--_Boston Times._
MARIE.
"Seldom has Mrs. Richards drawn a more irresistible picture, or framed
one with more artistic literary adjustment."--_Boston Herald._
"A perfect literary gem."--_Boston Transcript._
NARCISSA, and a companion story, IN VERONA.
"Each is a simple, touching, sweet little story of rustic New England
life, full of vivid pictures of interesting character, and refreshing
for its unaffected genuineness and human feeling."--_Congregationalist._
JIM OF HELLAS; or, IN DURANCE VILE, and a companion story,
BETHESDA POOL.
ROSIN THE BEAU. A sequel to "Melody."
SNOW-WHITE; or THE HOUSE IN THE WOOD.
ISLA HERON. A charming prose idyl of quaint New England life.
NAUTILUS. A very interesting story, with illustrations.
FIVE MINUTE STORIES. A charming collection of short stories and
clever poems for children.
THREE MARGARETS. One of the most clever stories for girls that
the author has written.
MARGARET MONTFORT. The second volume in the series of which
"Three Margarets" was so successful as the initial volume.
PEGGY. The third volume in the series of which the preceding
ones have been so successful.
RITA. The fourth volume in the series, being an account of Rita,
the Cuban Margaret, and her friends.
LOVE AND ROCKS. A charming story of one of the pleasant islands
that dot the rugged Maine coast. With etching frontispiece by Mercier.
_Dana Estes & Company, Publishers, Boston._