Ch. 19 - Little Heart's-Ease

WHEN it was all over, the long journey home, the quiet funeral, the
first sad excitement, then came the bitter moment when life says to
the bereaved: "Take up your burden and go on alone." Christie's had
been the still, tearless grief hardest to bear, most impossible to
comfort; and, while Mrs. Sterling bore her loss with the sweet
patience of a pious heart, and Letty mourned her brother with the
tender sorrow that finds relief in natural ways, the widow sat among
them, as tranquil, colorless, and mute, as if her soul had followed
David, leaving the shadow of her former self behind.

"He will not come to me, but I shall go to him," seemed to be the
thought that sustained her, and those who loved her said
despairingly to one another: "Her heart is broken: she will not
linger long."

But one woman wise in her own motherliness always answered
hopefully: "Don't you be troubled; Nater knows what's good for us,
and works in her own way. Hearts like this don't break, and sorrer
only makes 'em stronger. You mark my words: the blessed baby that's
a comin' in the summer will work a merrycle, and you'll see this
poor dear a happy woman yet."

Few believed in the prophecy; but Mrs. Wilkins stoutly repeated it
and watched over Christie like a mother; often trudging up the lane
in spite of wind or weather to bring some dainty mess, some
remarkable puzzle in red or yellow calico to be used as a pattern
for the little garments the three women sewed with such tender
interest, consecrated with such tender tears; or news of the war
fresh from Lisha who "was goin' to see it through ef he come home
without a leg to stand on." A cheery, hopeful, wholesome influence
she brought with her, and all the house seemed to brighten as she
sat there freeing her mind upon every subject that came up, from the
delicate little shirts Mrs. Sterling knit in spite of failing
eyesight, to the fall of Richmond, which, the prophetic spirit being
strong within her, Mrs. Wilkins foretold with sibylline precision.

She alone could win a faint smile from Christie with some odd
saying, some shrewd opinion, and she alone brought tears to the
melancholy eyes that sorely needed such healing dew; for she carried
little Adelaide, and without a word put her into Christie's arms,
there to cling and smile and babble till she had soothed the bitter
pain and hunger of a suffering heart.

She and Mr. Power held Christie up through that hard time,
ministering to soul and body with their hope and faith till life
grew possible again, and from the dust of a great affliction rose
the sustaining power she had sought so long.

As spring came on, and victory after victory proclaimed that