Ednas Sacrifice and Other Stories | Page 9

she will pity me,
and win for me forgiveness, alike from heavenly as earthly father, if
longer my heart cannot resist my love," Susie sobbed, dropping her
golden head on her lover's bosom and promising all he wished.
"The last night at home," she said. "On the morrow I must go forth, to
return no more, the loving, dutiful child. Should he ever consent to
have me come back, I can never be again what I once was to his heart. I
shall have broken the trust he held in me," Susie moaned.
Tenderly the brother and sister were ministered to, her hand resting on
each little head, as their lisping voices followed hers in the evening
prayer. Willie and Emma arose, their demure faces lifted to receive the
good-night kiss. But Rosie, the two-and-a-half-year baby, the dying
mother's sacred charge, wound her tiny arms about the elder sister, and
with baby-like perversity hung on, lisping:
"Now Susu pay, too. Pease, Susu. Do!"
The baby plead; and Susie, raising her eyes to Rosie's, felt mother, not
far away, but near, very near, and pleading through her child.
The sunny head was dropped again, and Susie prayed--even as Rosie
had begged her. Prayed for guidance to the better way.
Three pair of little pattering feet were resting. Three rosy faces pressed
the downy pillow, and Susie's evening task was done.
Gently she stole away.
"I will go to father myself, to-night. I will plead with him until he must
yield," Susie said, as cautiously closing, the door of the nursery she
entered her own room.
The evening was oppressive, and Susie's black dress became very
uncomfortable. Flitting about, guided by the moonbeams, she sought
for something of lighter texture. The mourning robe was laid aside, and
a dress, white and fleecy, wrapped her slender form. The clustering

ringlets were smoothed back, and rolled in a heavy coil high on the
back of her head.
"Now I will go down. Father will be alone at this hour, and--" She
paused, raised her sweet eyes upward, and clasping her hands she
murmured, "Mother in heaven, plead for me."
Noiselessly she opened the door and glanced into the room. Her father
sat with his back toward her, leaning on a table over which were
scattered books and papers. In his hand he held the picture of her
mother. She drew back a little, still, however, standing within the door.
She dared not interrupt the sacred privacy of the hour. The rustle of her
garments, light as it was, must have caught his ear, for his bowed head
was raised.
"Mary! my wife! my own!" he cried, starting forward, with extended
arms. "Thank God for granting me one glimpse of you again!"
Susie, awed and trembling, raised her eyes to see clothed as in life, the
same sweet, gentle face, the rippling hair, caught back from the smooth,
clear brow.
"Mother!" she breathed forth.
The room was lighted only by the moonbeams; but the vision was
plainly seen. Another eager glance, and Susie stole away to her own
room, and sank almost fainting into her mother's chair. A little while,
and grown calmer, she opened her eyes, to see again, directly in front
of her, the same vision.
She started forward, stretching out her arms, and calling softly,
"Mother."
Nearer--nearer she drew, until, face to face, she stood beside the large
mirror in front of which she had seated herself.
Unwittingly in one of her mother's dresses she had robed herself, and
gathered her curls in the manner her mother was accustomed to.
"How very, very like her I am! Yes, now I know: father saw me in the
mirror opposite which I stood. Well, I will not break his sweet delusion.
I meant it not, Heaven knows. Oh, if mother could only come to
him--in dreams, perhaps--to plead for me! I cannot desert him, I cannot;
I dare not! But Frank--oh, how can I give him up! I will give up neither,
but clinging to both loved ones, will trust to Heaven for a happy
decision."
With this determination she sank to sleep, sweet and undisturbed.

Early next morning, as usual, she was in the breakfast-room,
ministering to the little ones clustering around her. The father's frown
had lost its accustomed sternness, as he stood regarding his eldest child.
A gentle, sympathetic light was in his eyes as they rested on the sweet
face grown older, much, in those days of anxious care. How matronly
she looked! So patiently listening to, and answering every wish of the
little ones.
At last they were all satisfied; and Susie seeing, as she thought, her
father deeply interested in the morning paper, stole away to the
trysting-place.
* * * * *
"I cannot leave him, Frank. _Indeed, I