It had been sick so long that
she said she wanted to have it go; but I knew when she said it that she
did not know what the parting would be. It is not the parting alone, but
it is the horror of the grave,--the tender child alone in the far off
gloomy burial-ground, the heavy earth piled on the tender little breast,
the helplessness that looked to you for protection which you could not
give, and the emptiness of the home to which you return when the child
is gone. He who made a mother's heart and they who have borne it, alone
can tell the unutterable pain of all this. The little child is so
carefully and tenderly watched over and cherished while it is with
you,--and then to leave it alone in the dread grave where the winds and
the rain beat upon it! I know they do not feel it, but since mine has
been there, I have never felt sheltered from the storms when they come.
The rain seems to fall on my bare heart. I have said more than I meant
to have said on this subject, and have left myself little heart to write
of anything else. Tell Mammy that it is a great disappointment to me
that her name is not to have a place in my household. I was always so
pleased with the idea that my Susan and little Cygnet should grow up
together as the others had done; but it seems best that it should not be
so, or it would not have been denied.
Pages:
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25