“Yes, perhaps I may. Yes, I will. I’ll come before tea. But where’s your father, Mary?”
Mary shook her head, and stood up to be going.
“Miss Hale,” said Dixon, in a low voice, “where’s the use o’ your going to see the poor thing laid out? I’d never say a word against it, if it could do the girl any good; and I wouldn’t mind a bit going myself, if that would satisfy her. They’ve just a notion, these common folks, of its being a respect to the departed. Here,” said she, turning sharply round, “I’ll come and see your sister. Miss Hale is busy, and she can’t come, or else she would.”
The girl looked wistfully at Margaret. Dixon’s coming might be a compliment, but it was not the same thing to the poor sister, who had had her little pangs of jealousy, during Bessy’s lifetime, at the intimacy between her and the young lady.
“No, Dixon!” said Margaret with decision. “I will go. Mary, you shall see me this afternoon.” And for fear of her own cowardice, she went away, in order to take from herself any chance of changing her determination.
“Through cross to crown!--And though thy spirit’s life Trials untold assail with giant strength, Good cheer! good cheer! Soon ends the bitter strife, And thou shalt reign in peace with Christ at length.” KOSEGARTEN.
“Ay sooth, we feel too strong in weal, to need Thee on that road; But woe being come, the soul is dumb, that crieth not on ‘God.’” MRS. BROWNING.
That afternoon she walked swiftly to the Higgins’s house. Mary was looking out for her, with a half-distrustful face. Margaret smiled into her eyes to re-assure her. They passed quickly through the house-place, upstairs, and into the quiet presence of the dead. Then Margaret was glad that she had come. The face, so often weary with pain, so restless with troublous thoughts, had now the faint soft smile of eternal rest upon it. The slow tears gathered into Margaret’s eyes, but a deep calm entered into her soul. And that was death! It looked more peaceful than life. All beautiful scriptures came into her mind. “They rest from their labours.” “The weary are at rest.” “He giveth his beloved sleep.”
Slowly, slowly Margaret turned away from the bed. Mary was humbly sobbing in the back-ground. They went downstairs without a word.