Erema | Page 4

for the moment, resting there, with heavy light upon him, and the
dark jaws of the mountain desert yawning wide behind him, and all the
beautiful expanse of liberal earth before him--even so he seemed to me,
of all the things in sight, the one that first would draw attention. His
face was full of quiet grandeur and impressive calm, and the sad
tranquillity which comes to those who know what human life is
through continual human death. Although, in the matter of bodily
strength, he was little past the prime of life, his long and abundant hair
was white, and his broad and upright forehead marked with the meshes
of the net of care. But drought and famine and long fatigue had failed
even now to change or weaken the fine expression of his large, sad eyes.
Those eyes alone would have made the face remarkable among ten
thousand, so deep with settled gloom they were, and dark with fatal
sorrow. Such eyes might fitly have told the grief of Adrastus, son of
Gordias, who, having slain his own brother unwitting, unwitting slew
the only son of his generous host and savior.
The pale globe of the sun hung trembling in the haze himself had made.
My father rose to see the last, and reared his tall form upright against
the deepening background. He gazed as if the course of life lay
vanishing below him, while level land and waters drew the breadth of
shadow over them. Then the last gleam flowed and fled upon the face
of ocean, and my father put his dry lips to my forehead, saying nothing.
His lips might well be dry, for he had not swallowed water for three
days; but it frightened me to feel how cold they were, and even
tremulous. "Let us run, let us run, my dear father!" I cried. "Delicious
water! The dark falls quickly; but we can get there before dark. It is all
down hill. Oh, do let us run at once!"

"Erema," he answered, with a quiet smile, "there is no cause now for
hurrying, except that I must hurry to show you what you have to do, my
child. For once, at the end of my life, I am lucky. We have escaped
from that starving desert at a spot--at a spot where we can see--"
For a little while he could say no more, but sank upon the stony seat,
and the hand with which he tried to point some distant landmark fell
away. His face, which had been so pale before, became of a deadly
whiteness, and he breathed with gasps of agony. I knelt before him and
took his hands, and tried to rub the palms, and did whatever I could
think of.
"Oh, father, father, you have starved yourself, and given every thing to
me! What a brute I was to let you do it! But I did not know; I never
knew! Please God to take me also!"
He could not manage to answer this, even if he understood it; but he
firmly lifted his arm again, and tried to make me follow it.
"What does it matter? Oh, never mind, never mind such, a wretch as I
am! Father, only try to tell me what I ought to do for you."
"My child! my child!" were his only words; and he kept on saying, "My
child! my child!" as if he liked the sound of it.
At what time of the night my father died I knew not then or afterward.
It may have been before the moon came over the snowy mountains, or
it may not have been till the worn-out stars in vain repelled the
daybreak. All I know is that I ever strove to keep more near to him
through the night, to cherish his failing warmth, and quicken the slow,
laborious, harassed breath. From time to time he tried to pray to God
for me and for himself; but every time his mind began to wander and to
slip away, as if through want of practice. For the chills of many
wretched years had deadened and benumbed his faith. He knew me,
now and then, betwixt the conflict and the stupor; for more than once
he muttered feebly, and as if from out a dream,
"Time for Erema to go on her way. Go on your way, and save your life;

save your life, Erema."
There was no way for me to go, except on my knees before him. I took
his hands, and made them lissome with a soft, light rubbing. I
whispered into his ear my name, that he might speak once more to me;
and when he could not speak, I tried to say what he would say to me.
At last, with