英语天堂-第83章

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e　energy　than　ever；　all　day；　on　the　strength　of　this　new　misery。
“My　dear　Marie；　don’t　talk　so！”　said　St。　Clare。　You　ought　not　to　give　up　the　case　so；　at　once。”
“You　have　not　a　mother’s　feelings；　St。　Clare！　You　never　could　understand　me！—you　don’t　now。”
“But　don’t　talk　so；　as　if　it　were　a　gone　case！”
“I　can’t　take　it　as　indifferently　as　you　can；　St。　Clare。　If　you　don’t　feel　when　your　only　child　is　in　this　alarming　state；　I　do。　It’s　a　blow　too　much　for　me；　with　all　I　was　bearing　before。”
“It’s　true；”　said　St。　Clare；　“that　Eva　is　very　delicate；　that　I　always　knew；　and　that　she　has　grown　so　rapidly　as　to　exhaust　her　strength；　and　that　her　situation　is　critical。　But　just　now　she　is　only　prostrated　by　the　heat　of　the　weather；　and　by　the　excitement　of　her　cousin’s　visit；　and　the　exertions　she　made。　The　physician　says　there　is　room　for　hope。”
“Well；　of　course；　if　you　can　look　on　the　bright　side；　pray　do；　it’s　a　mercy　if　people　haven’t　sensitive　feelings；　in　this　world。　I　am　sure　I　wish　I　didn’t　feel　as　I　do；　it　only　makes　me　completely　wretched！　I　wish　I　could　be　as　easy　as　the　rest　of　you！”
And　the　“rest　of　them”　had　good　reason　to　breathe　the　same　prayer；　for　Marie　paraded　her　new　misery　as　the　reason　and　apology　for　all　sorts　of　inflictions　on　every　one　about　her。　Every　word　that　was　spoken　by　anybody；　everything　that　was　done　or　was　not　done　everywhere；　was　only　a　new　proof　that　she　was　surrounded　by　hard…hearted；　insensible　beings；　who　were　unmindful　of　her　peculiar　sorrows。　Poor　Eva　heard　some　of　these　speeches；　and　nearly　cried　her　little　eyes　out；　in　pity　for　her　mamma；　and　in　sorrow　that　she　should　make　her　so　much　distress。
In　a　week　or　two；　there　was　a　great　improvement　of　symptoms；—one　of　those　deceitful　lulls；　by　which　her　inexorable　disease　so　often　beguiles　the　anxious　heart；　even　on　the　verge　of　the　grave。　Eva’s　step　was　again　in　the　garden；—in　the　balconies；　she　played　and　laughed　again；—and　her　father；　in　a　transport；　declared　that　they　should　soon　have　her　as　hearty　as　anybody。　Miss　Ophelia　and　the　physician　alone　felt　no　encouragement　from　this　illusive　truce。　There　was　one　other　heart；　too；　that　felt　the　same　certainty；　and　that　was　the　little　heart　of　Eva。　What　is　it　that　sometimes　speaks　in　the　soul　so　calmly；　so　clearly；　that　its　earthly　time　is　short？　Is　it　the　secret　instinct　of　decaying　nature；　or　the　soul’s　impulsive　throb；　as　immortality　draws　on？　Be　it　what　it　may；　it　rested　in　the　heart　of　Eva；　a　calm；　sweet；　prophetic　certainty　that　Heaven　was　near；　calm　as　the　light　of　sunset；　sweet　as　the　bright　stillness　of　autumn；　there　her　little　heart　reposed；　only　troubled　by　sorrow　for　those　who　loved　her　so　dearly。
For　the　child；　though　nursed　so　tenderly；　and　though　life　was　unfolding　before　her　with　every　brightness　that　love　and　wealth　could　give；　had　no　regret　for　herself　in　dying。
In　that　book　which　she　and　her　simple　old　friend　had　read　so　much　together；　she　had　seen　and　taken　to　her　young　heart　the　image　of　one　who　loved　the　little　child；　and；　as　she　gazed　and　mused；　He　had　ceased　to　be　an　image　and　a　picture　of　the　distant　past；　and　come　to　be　a　living；　all…surrounding　reality。　His　love　enfolded　her　childish　heart　with　more　than　mortal　tenderness；　and　it　was　to　Him；　she　said；　she　was　going；　and　to　his　home。
But　her　heart　yearned　with　sad　tenderness　for　all　that　she　was　to　leave　behind。　Her　father　most；—for　Eva；　though　she　never　distinctly　thought　so；　had　an　instinctive　perception　that　she　was　more　in　his　heart　than　any　other。　She　loved　her　mother　because　she　was　so　loving　a　creature；　and　all　the　selfishness　that　she　had　seen　in　her　only　saddened　and　perplexed　her；　for　she　had　a　child’s　implicit　trust　that　her　mother　could　not　do　wrong。　There　was　something　about　her　that　Eva　never　could　make　out；　and　she　always　smoothed　it　over　with　thinking　that；　after　all；　it　was　mamma；　and　she　loved　her　very　dearly　indeed。
She　felt；　too；　for　those　fond；　faithful　servants；　to　whom　she　was　as　daylight　and　sunshine。　Children　do　not　usually　generalize；　but　Eva　was　an　uncommonly　mature　child；　and　the　things　that　she　had　witnessed　of　the　evils　of　the　system　under　which　they　were　living　had　fallen；　one　by　one；　into　the　depths　of　her　thoughtful；　pondering　heart。　She　had　vague　longings　to　do　something　for　them；—to　bless　and　save　not　only　them；　but　all　in　their　condition；—longings　that　contrasted　sadly　with　the　feebleness　of　her　little　frame。
“Uncle　Tom；”　she　said；　one　day；　when　she　was　reading　to　her　friend；　“I　can　understand　why　Jesus　wanted　to　die　for　us。”
“Why；　Miss　Eva？”
“Because　I’ve　felt　so；　too。”
“What　is　it　Miss　Eva？—I　don’t　understand。”
“I　can’t　tell　you；　but；　when　I　saw　those　poor　creatures　on　the　boat；　you　know；　when　you　came　up　and　I；—some　had　lost　their　mothers；　and　some　their　husbands；　and　some　mothers　cried　for　their　little　children—and　when　I　heard　about　poor　Prue；—oh；　wasn’t　that　dreadful！—and　a　great　many　other　times；　I’ve　felt　that　I　would　be　glad　to　die；　if　my　dying　could　stop　all　this　misery。　I　would　die　for　them；　Tom；　if　I　could；”　said　the　child；　earnestly；　laying　her　little　thin　hand　on　his。
Tom　looked　at　the　child　with　awe；　and　when　she；　hearing　her　father’s　voice；　glided　away；　he　wiped　his　eyes　many　times；　as　he　looked　after　her。
“It’s　jest　no　use　tryin’　to　keep　Miss　Eva　here；”　he　said　to　Mammy；　whom　he　met　a　moment　after。　“She’s　got　the　Lord’s　mark　in　her　forehead。”
“Ah；　yes；　yes；”　said　Mammy；　raising　her　hands；　“I’ve　allers　said　so。　She　wasn’t　never　like　a　child　that’s　to　live—there　was　allers　something　deep　in　her　eyes。　I’ve　told　Missis　so；　many　the　time；　it’s　a　comin’　true；—we　all　sees　it；—dear；　little；　blessed　lamb！”
Eva　came　tripping　up　the　verandah　steps　to　her　father。　It　was　late　in　the　afternoon；　and　the　rays　of　the　sun　formed　a　kind　of　glory　behind　her；　as　she　came　forward　in　her　white　dress；　with　her　golden　hair　and　glowing　cheeks；　her　eyes　unnaturally　bright　with　the　slow　fever　that　burned　in　her　veins。
St。　Clare　had　called　her　to　show　a　statuette　that　he　had　been　buying　for　her；　but　her　appearance；　as　she　came　on；　impressed　him　suddenly　and　painfully。　There　is　a　kind　of　beauty　so　intense；　yet　so　fragile；　that　we　cannot　bear　to　look　at　it。　Her　father　folded　her　suddenly　in　his　arms；　and　almost　forgot　what　he　was　going　to　tell　her。
“Eva；　dear；　you　are　better　now…a…days；—are　you　not？”
“Papa；”　said　Eva；　with　sudden　firmness　“I’ve　had　things　I　wanted　to　say　to　you；　a　great　while。　I　want　to　say　them　now；　before　I　get　weaker。”
St。　Clare　trembled　as　Eva　seated　herself　in　his　lap。　She　laid　her　head　on　his　bosom；　and　said；
“It’s　all　no　use；　papa；　to　keep　it　to　myself　any　longer。　The　time　is　coming　that　I　am　going　to　leave　you。　I　am　going；　and　never　to　come　back！”　and　Eva　sobbed。
“O；　now；　my　dear　little　Eva！”　said　St。　Clare；　trembling　as　he　spoke；　but　speaking　cheerfully；　“you’ve　got　nervous　and　low…spirited；　you　mustn’t　indulge　such　gloomy　thoughts。　See　here；　I’ve　bought　a　statuette　for　you！”
“No；　papa；”　said　Eva；　putting　it　gently　away；　“don’t　deceive　yourself！—I　am　not　any　better；　I　know　it　perfectly　well；—and　I　am　going；　before　long。　I　am　not　nervous；—I　am　not　low…spirited。　If　it　were　not　for　you；　papa；　and　my　friends；　I　should　be　perfectly　happy。　I　want　to　go；—I　long　to　go！”
“Why；　dear　child；　what　has　made　your　poor　little　heart　so　sad？　You　have　had　everything；　to　make　you　happy；　that　could　be　given　you。”
“I　had　rather　be　in　heaven；　though；　only　for　my　friends’　sake；　I　would　be　willing　to　live。　There　are　a　great　many　things　here　that　make　me　sad；　that　seem　dreadful　to　me；　I　had　rather　be　there；　but　I　don’t　want　to　leave　you；—it　almost　breaks　my　heart！”
“What　makes　you　sad；　and　seems　dreadful；　Eva？”
“O；　things　that　are　done；　and　done　all　the　time。　I　feel　sad　for　our　poor　people；　they　love　me　dearly；　and　they　are　all　good　and　kind　to　me。　I　wish；　papa；　they　were　all　free。”
“Why；　Eva；　child；　don’t　you　think　they　are　well　enough　off　now？”
“O；　but；　papa；　if　anything　should　happen　to　you；　what　would　become　of　them？　There　are　very　few　men　like　you；　papa。　Uncle　Alfred　isn’t　like　you；　and　mamma　isn’t；　and　then；　think　of　poor　old　Prue’s　owners！　What　horrid　things　people　do；　and　can　do！”　and　Eva　shuddered。
“My　dear　child；　you　are　too　sensitive。　I’m　sorry　I　ever　let　you　hear　such　stories。”
“O；　that’s　what　troubles　me；　papa。　You　want　me　to　live　so　happy；　and　never　to　have　any　pain；—never　suffer　anything；—not　even　hear　a　sad　story；　when　other　poor　creatures　have　nothing　but　pain　and　sorrow；　an　their　lives；—it　seems　selfish。　I　ought　to　know　such　things；　I　ought　to　feel　about　them！　Such　things　always　sunk　into　my　heart；　they　went　down　deep；　I’ve　thought　and　thought　about　them。　Papa；　isn’t　there　any　way　to　have　all　slaves　made　free？”
“That’s　a　difficult　question；　dearest。　There’s　no　doubt　that　this　way　is　a　very　bad　one；　a　great　many　people　think　so；　I　do　myself　I　heartily　wish　that　there　were　not　a　slave　in　the　land；　but；　then；　I　don’t　know　what　is　to　be　done　about　it！”
“Papa；　you　are　such　a　good　man；　and　so　noble；　and　kind；　and　you　always　have　a　way　of　saying　things　that　is　so　pleasant；　couldn’t　you　go　all　round　and　try　to　persuade　people　to　do　right　about　this？　When　I　am　dead；　papa；　then　you　will　think　of　me；　and　do　it　for　my　sake。　I　would　do　it；　if　I　could。”
“When　you　are　dead；　Eva；”　said　St。　Clare；　passionately。　“O；　child；　don’t　talk　to　me　so！　You　are　all　I　have　on　earth。”
“Poor　old　Prue’s　child　was　all　that　she　had；—and　yet　she　had　to　hear　it　crying；　and　she　couldn’t　help　it！　Papa；　these　poor　creatures　love　their　children　as　much　as　you　do　me。　O！　do　something　for　them！　There’s　poor　Mammy　loves　her　children；　I’ve　seen　her　cry　when　she　talked　about　them。　And　Tom　loves　his　children；　and　it’s　dreadful；　papa；　that　such　things　are　happening；　all　the　time！”
“There；　there；　darling；”　said　St。　Clare；　soothingly；　“only　don’t　distress　yourself；　don’t　talk　of　dying；　and　I　will　do　anything　you　wish。”
“And　promise　me；　dear　father；　that　Tom　shall　have　his　freedom　as　soon　as”—she　stopped；　and　said；　in　a　hesitating　tone—“I　am　gone！”
“Yes；　dear；　I　will　do　anything　in　the　world；—anything　you　could　ask　me　to。”
“Dear　papa；”　said　the　child；　laying　her　burning　cheek　against　his；　“how　I　wish　we　could　go　together！”
“Where；　dearest？”　said　St。　Clare。
“To　our　Saviour’s　home；　it’s　so　sweet　and　peaceful　there—it　is　all　so　loving　there！”　The　child　spoke　unconsciously；　as　of　a　place　where　she　had　often　been。　“Don’t　you　want　to　go；　papa？”　she　said。
St。　Clare　drew　her　closer　to　him；　but　was　silent。
“You　will　come　to　me；”　said　the　child；　speaking　in　a　voice　of　calm　certainty　which　she　often　used　unconsciously。
“I　shall　come　after　you。　I　shall　not　forget　you。”
The　shadows　of　the　solemn　evening　closed　round　them　deeper　and　deeper；　as　St。　Clare　sat　silently　holding　the　little　frail　form　to　his　bosom。　He　saw　no　more　the　deep　eyes；　but　the　voice　came　over　him　as　a　spirit　voice；　and；　as　in　a　sort　of　judgment　vision；　his　whole　past　life　rose　in　a　moment　before　his　eyes：　his　mother’s　prayers　and　hymns；　his　own　early　yearnings　and　aspirings　for　good；　and；　between　them　and　this　hour；　years　of　worldliness　and　scepticism；　and　what　m