Barriers Burned Away | Page 8

an echo from the _other side,
"Forgiven!"_

CHAPTER III
LAUNCHED
Scarcely was the last word spoken when a sudden glory filled the room.
So brilliant was the light that mother and son were startled. Then they
saw what had been unnoted before, that day had broken, and that the
sun, emerging from a single dark cloud, was shining, full-orbed, into
the apartment with a light that, reflected from myriads of snowy
crystals, was doubly luminous. Nevertheless it seemed to them a good
omen, an earnest, an emblem of the purer, whiter light into which the
cleansed and pardoned spirit had entered. The snow-wrapped prairie
was indeed pure and bright, but it was cold. The Father's embrace,

receiving home the long-absent, erring, but forgiven child, would be
warm indeed.
Though the bereaved wife believed that a brighter dawn than that which
made the world resplendent around her had come to her husband, still a
sense of desolation came over her which only those can understand
who have known a loss like hers. For years he had filled the greater part
of time, thought, and heart. As she saw her first and only love, the
companion of a life which, though hard, still had the light and solace of
mutual affection--as she saw him so still, and realized that she would
hear him speak no more--complain no more (for even the weaknesses
of those we love are sadly missed after death)--a flood of that natural
sorrow which Christianity consoles, but was never designed to prevent,
overwhelmed her, and she gave way utterly.
Her son took her in his arms and held her silently, believing that
unspoken sympathy was worth more at such a time than any words.
After the convulsive sobbing had somewhat ceased, he struck the right
chord by saying: "Mother, father is not lost to us. He himself said
good-by only for a little while. Then you have us to love and think of;
and remember, what could we do without you?"
The unselfish woman would have tried to rise from a bed of death to do
anything needed by her loved ones, and this reminder of those still
dependent on her care proved the most potent of restoratives. She at
once arose and said: "Dennis, you are right. It is indeed wrong for me
to give way thus, when I have so much to be thankful for--so much to
live for. But, O Dennis! you cannot understand this separation of
husband and wife, for God said, 'They twain shall be one flesh'; and it
seems as if half my very life had gone--as if half my heart had been
wrenched away, and only a bleeding fragment left."
The patter of feet was heard on the kitchen floor, the door opened, and
two little figures in white trailing nightgowns entered. At first they
looked in shy wonder and perplexity at their tall brother, whom they
had not seen for months, but at his familiar voice, recalling many a
romp and merry time together, they rushed to his arms as of old.

Then they drew near the bed to give their father his accustomed
morning kiss; but, as they approached, he seemed so still that awe
began to creep over their little faces. A dim recollection of the farewell
kiss given a few hours before, when they were scarcely awake, recurred
to them.
"Father," said the elder (about five), "we want to give you good-
morning kiss."
Seldom had their father been so sick or irritable but that he reached out
his arms to his little ones and gave them a warm embrace, that did him
more good than he realized. The influence of trusting children is
sometimes the most subtile oil that can be thrown on the troubled
waters of life.
But as the little ones saw that their father made no response to their
approach and appeal, they timidly drew a step nearer, and looked into
his wasted, yet peaceful face, with its closed eyes and motionless
repose, and then, turning to their mother, said in a loud whisper, with
faces full of perplexity and trouble, "Is papa asleep?"
The little figures in their white drapery, standing beside their dead
father, waiting to perform the usual, well-remembered household rite,
proved a scene too touching for the poor mother's self-control, and
again she gave way to a burst of sorrow. But her son, true to his
resolution to be the stay and strength of the family, hastened to the
children, and, taking them by the hand, said gently: "Yes, little ones,
papa is asleep. It may be a long time before he wakes, but he surely will
by and by, and then he will never be sick any more. Come, we will go
into the other room and sing a pretty