"My God, my Father, while I stray,
Far from my home in life's rough way,
O teach me from my heart to say,
Thy will be done,
Thy will be--"
She stopped, for sobs choked her voice. "I am sorry I cannot, Johnny.
But I cannot bear to think how soon we must part."
"Only for a short time, mother, a short time. I said a long time just
now, but _now_ it looks to me quite short, and I shall be with God. I
see it all now so clearly. Do you remember those lines--
"`The soul's dark cottage, battered and decayed,
Lets in new light through chinks that time has made.'
"How true they are! Oh, darling mother, how very, very good you have
always been to me, and I pay you with all my heart's whole love." He
pressed upon her lips a long, long kiss, and said, "Good-night, darling
mother. I am falling asleep, I think."
His arms relaxed their loving embrace, and glided down from her
shoulder; his head fell back; the light faded from his soft and gentle
eyes, and he was asleep.
Rightly he said "asleep"--the long sleep that is the sweetest and
happiest in that it knows no waking here; the long sweet sleep that no
evil dreams disturb; the sleep after which the eyes open upon the light
of immortality, and the weary heart rests upon the bosom of its God.
Yes, Daubeny had fallen asleep.
God help thee, widowed mother; the daily endearments, the looks of
living affection, the light of the boy's presence, are for thee and for
thy home no more. There lies the human body of thy son; his soul is
with the white-robed, redeemed, innumerable multitude in the Paradise of
God.
For hours, till the light faded into darkness, as this young life had
faded into death, she sat fixed in that deep grief which finds no
utterance, and knows of no alleviation, with little consciousness save
of the dead presence, and of the pang that benumbed her aching heart.
And outside rang the sound of games and health, and the murmur of
boy-voices came to her forlorn ear. There the stream of life was
flashing joyously and gloriously in the sunshine, while here, in this
darkened room, it had sunk into the sands, and lost itself under the
shadow of the dark boughs. But she was a Christian; and as the sweet
voices of memory, and conscience, and hope, and promise whispered to her
in her loneliness their angel messages, her heart melted and the tears
came, and she knelt down and took the dead hand of her son in hers, and
said, between her sobs, while her tear-stained eyes were turned to
heaven, "O God, teach me to understand Thy will."
And through the night the great bell of the church of Saint Winifred's
tolled the sound of death; and, mingled with it stroke for stroke, in
long, tremulous, thrilling notes that echoed through the silent
buildings, rang out the thin clear bell of Saint Winifred's School. The
tones of that school-bell were usually only heard as they summoned the
boys to lessons with quick and hurried beatings. How different now were
the slow occasional notes--each note trembling itself out with
undisturbed vibrations which quivered long upon the air--with which it
told that for one at least whom it had been wont to warn, hurry was
possible no longer, and there was boundless leisure now! There was a
strange pulse of emotion in the hearts of the listening boys, when the
sound of those two passing bells struck upon their ears as they sat at
evening work, and told them that the soul of their schoolfellow had
passed away, and that God's voice had summoned His young servant to His
side.
"You hear it, Henderson?" said Walter, who sat next to him.
"Yes," answered Henderson in an awe-struck voice, "Daubeny is dead."
The rest of that evening the two boys sat silent and motionless, full of
the solemn thoughts which can never be forgotten. And for the rest of
that evening the deep church-bell tolled, and the shrill school-bell
tolling after it, shivered out into the wintry night air its tremulous
message that the soul of Daubeny had passed away.