“O, that I had wings like a dove, that I might flee away and be at rest,” she exclaimed, as with tearful eyes she looked up to the cloudless heavens. “Pitying Father, take thy poor heart-stricken child to thyself!”
The air of the room seemed close and stifling to her. She longed to be away upon the hill-tops or in the woods, where she had so often wandered. Acting from the impulse of the moment, she threw her shawl around her, and stealing gently down stairs, unbolted the door and passed out. Neither knowing or caring whither she went, she pursued her way with hurrying footsteps, till she came to the village grave-yard.
“O,” she murmured, as she threw open the little gate and entered the enclosure, “ye calm, quiet sleepers, how sincerely do I wish that I too was resting among you!” Then she stopped suddenly, and pressed her hands to her forehead.
“How is it,” she added, in a calmer tone, “am I beside myself, that at midnight I come hither with such wishes upon my lips, because a selfish sorrow has taken possession of my heart? Have I not parents and friends, and all the world to live for? and was life given us only to seek out our individual interests, independent of all beside? O, what a poor, miserable sinner I am!”
Weeping most sincerely over her own weakness and folly, she passed on till she came to the little marble tablet beneath which simple Johnny lay buried. The sighing of the night winds through the willows that grew near his grave, seemed like the soft whisperings of his angel voice. She cast herself with her face downward upon the green mound that covered the child’s resting place, and wept without restraint. How long she remained thus she could not tell, for her very senses seemed to pass away, and she lay there in a state of dreamy unconsciousness. She only knew, that at last, a gentle hand was laid upon her, and some one called her name. Raising her head, she beheld her mother close beside her.
“My child! my poor dear child!” said her mother, “let me take you close into my bosom, as I did when you were an infant, and comfort you with my love.”
“Mother!” said Hesper, “how came you here?”
“I knew, poor child,” she replied, “that your heart was bleeding in anguish, and therefore I could not sleep. I heard you when you went forth, and followed you hither, waiting a little way off, till the first gush of sorrow had passed, for I know by my own experience, that at such moments it is better for the soul to be alone with its God. O Hesper! my child! my child! I would to God I could have borne this great grief for thee! but it might not be. I know also, that it was well I could not shield thee from this chastening of His love. Bear up beneath it bravely and patiently, my child, and in the end you shall see that He ordereth all things well.”