Dear Miss blithe and beautiful, and is now lying in a foreign land. Lindsey! she was so like her blessed mother;-just the same gentle tone, and sweet smiles, and bright blue eyes; and now to think that she sleeps where no one can shed a tear over her early grave." Mrs. Roberts stopped suddenly, for Maude had seated herself on a low chair, and, laying her head on the table, was weeping with a violence that threatened a succeeding fit of absolute exhaustion. The housekeeper, alarmed at her mistress's convulsive sobs, blamed herself for her indiscretion; and then she attempted to console the sufferer. "Oh dear! Miss Bolingbroke," she said, "It is wrong for us to mourn so much for her who is gone to a better world. She was almost an angel upon earth; and now she is safe and happy for ever with her God; besides, I am sure, Ma'am, you nursed her as only one tender sister can nurse another. I know how very dearly you loved each other; and it must have been a great comfort to you to watch over her dying couch, and to see how peacefully she departed this mortal life." It was well that at this crisis Margarita entered the room. She heard enough of Mrs. Robert's discourse to convince her that it must be instantly checked; and motioning the housekeeper to silence, she raised Maude, and kissing her pale cheek, she began to prepare her for her night's repose. When the two friends were left alone, Margarita sat down by Maude, and read to her till she became calm. "Maude, dearest," she said, as she closed her Bible; "you must not again give way to this excess of feeling; you cannot bear it; I shall tell the housekeeper and the other servants, that they must not talk to you about Annie." "Thank you, dear Margarita, but here, everything reminds me of her; every tree and flower; every part of the house recalls Annie as she was in the bright, happy days, before I cast a shade over her gentle spirit. For your sake, my beloved friend, I almost grieve that I came here; because I feel that it will shorten my days. It is sweet summer now, Margarita; and it is the last summer that I shall see. Before another bright spring has opened her primroses and violets, I shall have seen my Annie again." Margarita looked at the small and nearly transparent hand which she held in her own, and then at the countenance of her beloved friend, and as she gazed on its delicate fairness, and on the deep crimson that lent to her dark hazel eyes an almost unearthly brilliance, she felt that Maude's words were indeed true. It was evident, that the fragile tabernacle which had long shown symptoms of decay, was now indeed about to be dissolved; and Margarita was convinced, that when the roses of summer should again glow in her path, Maude Bolingbroke would have passed away from earth. Tears sprang into her eyes, as this sad conviction forced itself upon her mind, and again she turned to her friend. Maude had closed her eyes, and their long black lashes were sweeping over the sunken cheek; and now that the hectic glow had passed away, she looked more like sculptured marble than like a mortal being. Margarita thought she slept, and was about to leave the room, when Maude called her back. "Tell me," she said earnestly, "do you believe what I have just said to you? Do you really think, Margarita, that we shall soon be separated ?" Margarita knew, that her beloved friend was firmly fixed upon that Rock, against which the billows of the dark river of death may dash, but which they cannot harm; and she answered calmly, Yes, love, I do not doubt it; for many months you have been my sole earthly care, but now-now your Heavenly Father is about to call you to himself; and though, Maude, dearest, it will be a bitter trial to lose you, yet I trust that I shall be enabled to resign you cheerfully to One who loves you far better than I can do; and I know that death has no terrors for you." "No," answered Maude, slowly, and clasping together her thin white hands; "thank God, it is so. Once before, I thought that death was near at hand; and oh, how I dreaded it then! That fearful system of Romanism chained my soul then in utter darkness; but now, all is light! But, Margarita, I have one fear-one grievous fear. When the last hour shall come, may not those dark shadows return? Even now, a cloud sometimes overshadows me, and dims the eye of faith that would gaze with a steady vision on things unseen." "At evening time," replied Margarita, "it shall be light! Fear not, my beloved friend; only cling fast to the hope that maketh not ashamed, and all will be well. Your Saviour never forsook one of his most feeble children. Have you not committed to him your immortal and ransomed soul? and do you not believe that He is able to keep that which you have committed unto Him, until that day-that blessed morning of the resurrection, when you and I, Maude, shall meet again, and shall be restored to those beloved ones who sleep peacefully at Verdenthal ?" "Thank you, dear," replied Maude; "thank you for the sweet, solid comfort that you always afford me, when sadness for a time overpowers me; but now, Margarita, you must go to rest; you too are tired with your journey; you are looking quite pale, and not at all like a Swiss mountain-maiden. Good-night; I have not formally welcomed you to Bolingbroke, which I thought never to see again; but if words were wanting, you know that it was because they were needless." Margarita left Maude's chamber, and was soon sitting quietly in her own, and thinking of her friend, as the poor wanderer who had come in penitence to the lovely Swiss valley, and there had become dear to her as a sister. And Annie too, the lovely Annie, that valley had been her home likewise; but thought soon became undefined, and ere the clock of Bolingbroke Hall tolled the hour of midnight, Margarita slept peacefully. (To be continued.) CHILDREN SLEEPING. BY ELIZABETH CRAVEN GREEN. FLOWERS of my life! How softly are ye folded, Your quiet slumbers, soothes each gentle breast, Flowers of my life! How fresh and fair ye blossom, Thus bound together by the silken tie Of my heart's love! Alas! that time should sever But if the dew of Faith, and heavenward seeking, Bright in immortal beauty, undecay'd, An angel-garland, never more to fade! RETURN UNTO THY REST, O MY SOUL." COME Holy, Heavenly Dove! Thine is the work of Love, To soothe and tranquillize the trusting soul When joyless it is cast Upon life's stormy waste, And sin's dark waters round about it roll. O now Thyself impart To my desponding heart, And chase these darkling shadows of dull care With thy celestial ray, Which shines from brighter worlds to lead me there. Why dost thou wander so, My spirit, to and fro, With drooping wing, and wildly flutt'ring breast? O, pantest thou to find, From blighting storm and wind, A refuge in this hour of thy unrest? Can'st thou not speed thee where And groves are vocal with a thousand lays? There nature's calm delight, Shall put thy woes to flight, And tune thy heart to peace, and love, and praise. Or go where Music reigns, The grief-dissolving sounds, through ev'ry vein Till all thy fainting powers Revive and bound with gladsomeness again. If these no charm possess, To make thy trouble less, One hope is left; thou hast a little store O softly may these rise, In circling eddies round thy heart once more! Oh! woe is me! I find No comfort for my mind, But more I languish, more my sorrows frown; Cease thy imaginings, And yield to be subdued and stricken down! No!-FALL ON CALVARY; There in abasement lie Where God's meek Lamb expires: my spirit see, His blood, to heal thy woes; Ile knows thee, who thou art-He dies for thee! He knows thee, who thou art; A sinner thou; but mercy may be thine; And hush thy wild alarm, And fill thee with a peace and joy divine. Here meekly shouldst thou stay, THE CROSS, thy only refuge, and thy rest, Thy Lord, thy Life, thy Love, Shall safely hide thee in his pitying breast. LYRICA. |