Uncle Titus and His Visit to the Country | Page 6

spoke in whispers all the while, and asked only the most
necessary questions, in order not to disturb her husband. Dora said little;
and less every day, as she grew accustomed to this silent life. Even
when she came home from school at noon for the short interval before
the time for her sewing lessons, there was no need to caution her
against noise; for the child moved ever less and less like a living being,
and grew more like a shadow day by day.
Yet by nature she was a lively little maiden, and took so keen an
interest in all about her, that her father often used joyfully to observe it,
saying,
"That child is exactly like her dear mother; just the same movements,
the same indomitable spirit and enjoyment of life!"
But now all this vivacity seemed extinguished. Dora was very careful
never to provoke her aunt to complaints, which she dreaded
exceedingly. Yet for all her pains it would happen sometimes, most
unexpectedly and when she was least looking for a storm, that one
would break over her head, and frighten all her thoughts and words
back into her childish heart; nay, almost check the flow of youth in her
veins.
One evening, she came home from her work filled with enthusiasm, by
a song she had been listening to, played by her unseen musician. Dora
knew the words well:
"Live your life merrily While the lamp glows, Ere it can fade and die,
Gather the rose."
Dora had often sung this song, but she had never dreamed that it could

be played on the piano, and it sounded so beautiful, so wonderful to her,
that she said to her aunt, as she entered the dining-room,
"Oh, Aunt Ninette, how delightful it must be to know how to play on
the piano! Do you think that I can ever learn it in my life?"
"Oh, in heaven's name, how can you ask me such a thing? How can you
worry me so? How could you do anything of the kind in our house?
Think of the terrible din that a piano makes! And where would the
money come from if you could find the time? Oh, Dora, where did you
get hold of that unfortunate idea? I should think I had enough to worry
me already, without your asking me such a thing as this into the
bargain."
Dora hastened to assure her aunt that she had no intention of asking for
any thing, and the storm blew over. But never again did she dare even
to speak of music, no matter how eagerly she had listened to the piano,
during her long sewing lessons.
Every evening after Dora had learned all her lessons for school, while
her aunt in utter silence knitted or nodded, the child climbed up to her
little attic room; and before she closed her tiny window, she leaned out
into the night to see whether the stars were shining, and looking down
upon her from the high heavens. Five there were always up there just
above her head; they stood close together and Dora looked at them so
often and so steadily, that she began to consider them as her own
special property--or rather as friends who came every night and
twinkled down into her heart, to tell her that she was not utterly alone.
One night the idea came to her that these bright stars were loving
messengers, who brought her kisses and caresses from her dear parents.
And from these heavenly messengers the lonely child gained nightly
comfort when she climbed to her little chamber in the roof, with her
feeble candle for her only companion. She sent her prayers up to
heaven through the tiny window, and received full assurance in return,
that her Father in heaven saw her, and would not forsake her. Her father
had told her that God would always help those who trusted him and
prayed to him, and she had no fear.

And so the long hot summer passed, and Autumn came. Then followed
a long, long winter with its cold and darkness; such cold that Dora
often thought that even the hot summer days were better, for she no
longer dared to open the window to look for her friends the stars, and
often she could hardly get to sleep, it was so cold in the little room,
under the roof. At last the Spring rolled round again, and the days
passed one like another, in the quiet dwelling of Uncle Titus. Dora
worked harder than ever on the big shirts, for she had learned to sew so
well, that she had to help the seamstress in earnest now. When the hot
days came again, something happened; and now Aunt Ninette had
reason enough