I missed her and was sad for many a day, Till mother gave me leave to follow her.

In autumn--in vacation--she would come With girlish pretext to our cottage home.

She often brought my mother little gifts, And cheered her with sweet songs and happy words; And I would pluck the fairest meadow-flowers To grace a garland for her golden hair, And fill her basket from the b.u.t.ternuts That flourished in our little meadow field.

I found in her all I had dreamed of heaven.

So garlanded with latest-blooming flowers, Chanting the mellow music of our hopes, The silver-sandaled Autumn-hours tripped by.

And mother learned to love her; but she feared, Knowing her heart and mine, that one rude hand Might break our hopes asunder. Like a thief I often crept about her father's house, Under the evening shadows, eager-eyed, Peering for one dear face, and lingered late To catch the silver music of one voice That from her chamber nightly rose to heaven.

Her father's face I feared--a silent man, Cold-faced, imperative, by nature p.r.o.ne To set his will against the beating world; Warm-hearted but heart-crusted.

[Ill.u.s.tration: WE OFTEN STOLE AWAY AMONG THE PINES, AND CONNED OUR LESSONS FROM THE SELF-SAME BOOK]

"Two years more Thus wore away. Pauline grew up a queen.

A shadow fell across my sunny path;-- A hectic flush burned on my mother's cheeks; She daily failed and nearer drew to death.

Pauline would often come with sun-lit face, Cheating the day of half its languid hours With cheering chapters from the holy book, And border tales and wizard minstrelsy: And mother loved her all the better for it.

With feeble hands upon our sad-bowed heads, And in a voice all tremulous with tears, She said to us: 'Dear children, love each other-- Bear and forbear, and come to me in heaven;'

And praying for us daily--drooped and died.

[Ill.u.s.tration: "'DEAR CHILDREN? LOVE EACH OTHER,--BEAR AND FORBEAR, AND COME TO ME IN HEAVEN'"]

"After the sad and solemn funeral, Alone and weeping and disconsolate, I sat at evening by the cottage door.

I felt as if a dark and bitter fate Had fallen on me in my tender years.

I seemed an aimless wanderer doomed to grope In vain among the darkling years and die.

One only star shone through the shadowy mists.

The moon that wandered in the gloomy heavens Was robed in shrouds; the rugged, looming hills Looked desolate;--the silent river seemed A somber chasm, while my own pet lamb, Mourning disconsolate among the trees, As if he followed some dim phantom-form, Bleated in vain and would not heed my call.

On weary hands I bent my weary head; In gloomy sadness fell my silent tears.

"An angel's hand was laid upon my head-- There in the moonlight stood my own Pauline-- Angel of love and hope and holy faith-- She flashed upon me bowed in bitter grief, As falls the meteor down the night-clad heavens-- In silence. Then about my neck she clasped Her loving arms and on my shoulder drooped Her golden tresses, while her silent tears Fell warm upon my cheek like summer rain.

Heart clasped to heart and cheek to cheek we sat; The moon no longer gloomed--her face was cheer; The rugged hills were old-time friends again; The peaceful river slept beneath the moon, And my pet lamb came bounding to our side And kissed her hand and mine as he was wont.

Then I awoke as from a dream and said: 'Tell me, beloved, why you come to me In this dark hour--so late--so desolate?'

And she replied:

"'My darling, can I rest While you are full of sorrow? In my ear A spirit seemed to whisper--"Arise and go To comfort him disconsolate." Tell me, Paul, Why should you mourn your tender life away?

I will be mother to you; nay, dear boy, I will be more. Come, brush away these tears.'

"My heart was full; I kissed her pleading eyes: 'You are an angel sent by one in heaven,'

I said,'to heal my heart, but I have lost More than you know. The cruel hand of death Hath left me orphan, friendless--poor indeed, Saving the precious jewel of your love.

And what to do? I know not what to do, I feel so broken by a heavy hand.

My mother hoped that I would work my way To competence and honor at the bar.

But shall I toil in poverty for years To learn a science that so seldom yields Or wealth or honor save to silvered heads?

I know that path to fame and fortune leads Through thorns and brambles over ragged rocks; But can I follow in the common path Trod by the millions, never to lift my head Above the busy hordes that delve and drudge For bare existence in this bitter world-- And be a mite, a midge, a worthless worm, No more distinguished from the common ma.s.s Than one poor polyp in the coral isle Is marked amid the myriads teeming there?

Yet 'tis not for myself. For you, Pauline, Far up the slippery heights of wealth and fame Would I climb bravely; but if I would climb By any art or science, I must train Unto the task my feet for many years, Else I should slip and fall from rugged ways, Too badly bruised to ever mount again.'

Then she:

"'O Paul, if wealth were mine to give!

O if my father could but know my heart!

But fear not, Paul, our _Father_ reigns in heaven.

Follow your bent--'twill lead you out aright; The highest mountain lessens as we climb; Persistent courage wins the smile of fate.

Apply yourself to law and master it, And I will wait. This sad and solemn hour Is dark with doubt and gloom, but by and by The clouds will lift and you will see G.o.d's face.

For there is one in heaven whose pleading tongue Will pray for blessings on her only son Of Him who heeds the little sparrow's fall;-- And O if He will listen to my prayers, The gates of heaven shall echo to my voice Morning and evening,--only keep your heart.'

I said:

"'Pauline, your prayers had rolled away The ponderous stone that closed the tomb of Christ; And while they rise to heaven for my success I cannot doubt, or I should doubt my G.o.d.

I think I see a pathway through this gloom; I have a kinsman'--and I told her where-- 'A lawyer; I have heard my mother say-- A self-made man with charitable heart; And I might go and study under him; I think he would a.s.sist me.'

"Then she sighed: 'Paul, can you leave me? You may study here And here you are among your boyhood friends, And here I should be near to cheer you on.'

"I promised her that I would think of it-- Would see what prospect offered in the town; And then we walked together half-embraced, But when we neared her vine-arched garden gate, She bade me stay and kissed me a good-night And bounded through the moonlight like a fawn.

I watched her till she flitted from my sight, Then slowly homeward turned my lingering steps.

I wrote my kinsman on the morrow morn, And broached my project to a worthy man Who kept an office and a case of books-- An honest lawyer. People called him learn'd, But wanting tact and ready speech he failed.

The rest were pettifoggers--scurrilous rogues Who plied the village justice with their lies, And garbled law to suit the case in hand-- Mean, querulous, small-brained delvers in the mire Of men's misfortunes--crafty, cunning knaves, Versed in chicane and trickery that schemed To keep the evil pa.s.sions of weak men In petty wars, and plied their tongues profane With cunning words to argue honest fools Into their spider-meshes to be fleeced.

I laid my case before him; took advice-- Well-meant advice--to leave my native town, And study with my kinsman whom he knew.

A week rolled round and brought me a reply-- A frank and kindly letter--giving me That which I needed most--encouragement.

But hard it was to fix my mind to go; For in my heart an angel whispered 'Stay.'

It might be better for my after years, And yet perhaps,'twere better to remain.

I balanced betwixt my reason and my heart, And hesitated. Her I had not seen Since that sad night, and so I made resolve That we should meet, and at her father's house.

So whispering courage to my timid heart I went. With happy greeting at the door She met me, but her face was wan and pale-- So pale and wan I feared that she was ill.

I read the letter to her, and she sighed, And sat in silence for a little time, Then said:

"'G.o.d bless you, Paul, may be 'tis best-- I sometimes feel it is not for the best, But I am selfish--thinking of myself.

Go like a man, but keep your boyish heart-- Your boyish heart is all the world to me.

Remember, Paul, how I shall watch and wait; So write me often: like the dew of heaven To withering gra.s.s will come your cheering words.

To know that you are well and happy, Paul, And good and true, will wing the weary months.

And let me beg you as a sister would-- Not that I doubt you but because I love-- Beware of wine--touch not the treacherous cup, And guard your honor as you guard your life.

The years will glide away like scudding clouds That fleetly chase each other o'er the hills, And you will be a man before you know, And I will be a woman. G.o.d will crown Our dearest hopes if we but trust in Him.'

"We sat in silence for a little time, And she was weeping, so I raised her face And kissed away her tears. She softly said: 'Paul, there is something I must say to you-- Something I have no time to tell you now; But we must meet again before you go-- Under the pines where we so oft have met.

Be this the sign,'--She waved her graceful hand, 'Come when the shadows gather on the pines, And silent stars stand sentinel in heaven; Now Paul, forgive me--I must say--good-bye.'

"I read her fear upon her anxious brow.

Lingering and clasped within her loving arms I, through her dewy, deep, blue eyes, beheld Her inmost soul, and knew that love was there.

Ah, then and there her father bl.u.s.tered in, And caught us blushing in each other's arms!

He stood a moment silent and amazed: Then kindling wrath distorted all his face, He showered his anger with a tongue of fire.

O cruel words that stung my boyish pride!

O dagger words that stabbed my very soul!

I strove, but fury mastered--up I sprang, And felt a giant as I stood before him.

My breath was hot with anger;--impious boy-- Frenzied--forgetful of his silvered hairs-- Forgetful of her presence, too, I raved, And poured a madman's curses on his head.

A moan of anguish brought me to myself; I turned and saw her sad, imploring face, And tears that quenched the wild fire in my heart.

I pressed her hand and pa.s.sed into the hall, While she stood sobbing in a flood of tears, And he stood choked with anger and amazed.

But as I pa.s.sed the ivied porch he came With bated breath and muttered in my ear-- '_Beggar!_'--It stung me like a serpent's fang.

Pride-p.r.i.c.ked and muttering like a maniac, I almost flew the street and hurried home To vent my anger to the silent elms.

_'Beggar!_'--an hundred times that long, mad night I muttered with hot lips and burning breath; I paced the walk with hurried tread, and raved; I threw myself beneath the willow-tree, And muttered like the muttering of a storm.

My little lamb came bleating mournfully; Angered I struck him;--out among the trees I wandered mumbling 'beggar' as I went, And beating in through all my burning soul The bitter thoughts it conjured, till my brain Reeled and I sunk upon the dew-damp gra.s.s, And--utterly exhausted--slept till morn.

"I dreamed a dream--all mist and mystery.

I saw a sunlit valley beautiful With purple vineyards and with garden-plats; And in the vineyards and the garden-plats Were happy-hearted youths and merry girls Toiling and singing. Grandsires too were there, Sitting contented under their own vines And fig-trees, while about them merrily played Their children's children like the sportive lambs That frolicked on the foot-hills. Low of kine, Full-uddered, homeward-wending from the meads, Fell on the ear as soft as Hulder's loor Tuned on the Norse-land mountains. Like a nest Hid in a hawthorn-hedge a cottage stood Embowered with vines beneath broad-branching elms Sweet-voiced with busy bees.

[Ill.u.s.tration: PAUL'S DREAM]

"On either hand Rose steep and barren mountains--mighty cliffs Cragged and chasm'd and over-grown with thorns; And on the topmost peak a golden throne Blazoned with burning characters that read-- 'Climb'--it is yours.' Not far above the vale I saw a youth, fair-browed and raven-haired, Clambering among the thorns and ragged rocks; And from his brow with torn and bleeding hand He wiped great drops of sweat. Down through the vale I saw a rapid river, broad and deep, Winding in solemn silence to the sea-- The sea all mist and fog. Lo as I stood Viewing the river and the moaning sea, A sail--and then another--flitted down And plunged into the mist. A moment more, Like shapeless shadows of the by-gone years, I saw them in the mist and they were gone-- Gone!--and the sea moaned on and seemed to say-- _'Gone--and forever!_'--So I gladly turned To look upon the throne--the blazoned throne That sat upon the everlasting cliff.

The throne had vanished!--Lo where it had stood, A bed of ashes and a gray-haired man Sitting upon it bowed and broken down.

And so the vision pa.s.sed.