Delusion; or, The Witch of New England
Page 5
CHAPTER V.
"The mildest herald by our fate allotted Beckons! and with inverted torch doth stand To lead us, with a gentle hand, Into the land of the departed,--into the silent land.
Ah, when the frame round which in love we cling, Is chilled by death, does mutual service fail? Is tender pity then of no avail? Are intercessions of the fervent tongue A waste of hope?"
WORDSWORTH.
The two slaves that completed the evening group had been brought intoMr. Grafton's family at the time of his marriage. Dinah was the moststriking in personal appearance. She had been born a princess in hernative land; and her erect and nobly-proportioned form had never beencrushed by the feeling of abject slavery.
From the moment they entered the family of Mr. Grafton, they wereregarded as children, even the lambs of the flock.
They were both at that time young, and soon entered into the moreintimate relation of husband and wife; identifying their own dearestinterests, and making each other only subordinate to what seemed to themeven more sacred,--their devotion to their master and mistress.
Dinah's mind was of a more elevated order than Paul's, her husband. Ifshe had not been a princess in her own country, she belonged to thoseupon whose souls God has stamped the patent of nobility.
Naturally proud, she was docile to the instructions of her excellentmistress; and her high and imperious spirit was soon subdued to thegentle influences of domestic love, and to the purifying and elevatingspirit of Christianity.
Her mistress taught her to read. The Bible was her favorite book; andshe became wise in that best wisdom of the heart, which is found in anintimate knowledge of the Holy Scriptures. Her character, under theburning sun of Africa, would have been intolerable; but it was temperedto a soft moonlight radiance, by the shading of Christianity.
Though her imperious spirit at first rebelled against slavery, there wasno toil, no fatigue, no menial service, however humble, which she wouldnot have sought for those she loved. Love elevated every toil, and gaveit, in her eyes, the dignity of a voluntary and disinterested service.
She had been the only nurse of her kind mistress through her last longillness. Hers was that faithful affection that preferred long vigils atthe bedside through the watches of the night,--the nurse that thesleepless eye ever found awake. Hers was that sentient sympathy thatcould interpret the weary look,--that love that steals into the darkenedroom, anticipating every wish, divining every want, and which, insilence, like the evening dew on drooping flowers, revives and soothesthe sufferer.
Her cares were unavailing: her kind mistress died, commending the littleEdith to her watchful love.
Dinah received her as if she had been more than the child of her ownbosom. Henceforth she was the jewel of her life; and, if Mr. Grafton hadnot interposed, she would have treated her like those precious jewels ofthe old Scottish regalia, that are said to be approached by only oneperson at a time, and that by torch-light.
Our forefathers and foremothers had a maxim that the will of every childmust be early broken, to insure that implicit and prompt obedience thatthe old system of education demanded. Mr. Grafton wisely left thebreaking of the little Edith's will to Dinah.
As we have seen, she was of a gentle temper, but, as a child, determinedand obstinate. Obstinacy in a child is the strength of purpose which, inman and woman, leads to all excellence. Before it is guided by reason,it is mere wilfulness. It was wonderful with what a silken thread Dinahguided the little Edith.
She possessed in her own character the firmness of the oak, and an ironresolution, but tempered so finely by the influences of love andreligion, that she yielded to every thing that was not hurtful; butthere she stopped, and went not a hair's breadth further.
It was beautiful to see the little Edith watching the mild and lovingbut firm eye of Dinah,--which spoke as plain as eye could speak,--and,when it said "_No_," yielding like a young lamb to a silken tether.
Nothing is easier than to gain the prompt obedience of a young child.Gentleness, firmness, and steadiness, are all that is requisite.Gentleness, firmness, and steadiness,--the two last perhaps the rarestqualities in tender mothers. When a young child finds its motheruniform--not one day weakly indulgent, and the next capriciously severe,but always the same mild, firm being--she is to the child like abeneficent but unchanging Providence; and he no more expects his ownwill to prevail, than children of an older growth expect the sun tostand still, and the seasons to change their order, for theirconvenience.
As soon as the little girl was old enough, she became the pupil of herfather. Under his instruction, she could read the Latin authors withfacility; and even his favorite Greek classics became playfully familiaras household words, although she really knew little about them. But theChristian ethics came home more closely to her woman's heart: theirtender, pure, self-denying principles were more congenial to the trulyfeminine nature of the little Edith.
The character and example of her mother were ever held up to her byDinah. At night, after her little childish prayer, when she laid herhead on her pillow, her last thought was of her mother.
Ah, it is not necessary to be a Catholic, to believe in the intercessionof saints. To a tender heart, a mother lost in infancy is the beautifulMadonna of the church; and the heart turns as instinctively to her asthe devout Catholic turns to the holy mother and child.
In all Edith's solitary rambles, her pensive thoughts sought her mother.There was a particular spot in the evening sky where she fancied thespirit of her mother to dwell; and there, in all her childish griefs,she sought sympathy, and turned her eye towards it in childlikedevotion.