By the Light of the Soul

lass. All that troubled her was the consideration that her aunt Maria, whose homely face seemed to glare out of the darkness at her, might have looked just as s

uld look now, laid away in a nest of white flowers. She had only just begun to doze, wh

aid, in an ag

her, what is it?" said she, a

r mother's room," said her father, in a gasping

ot out of bed. "Oh, father,"

wife for being ill, furious with Maria, with life, and death itself. In reality he was torn almost to madness with a

a little pink wrapper. "Oh, father, is

or to-morrow," replied her father, still in that furiou

but her father, running dow

th her. And don't you talk. Don't you speak a word t

h she had ever heard before. It did not seem possible that her mother, that anything human, in fact, was making such a noise, and yet no animal could have made it, for it was articulate. Her mother was in fact both praying and repeating verses of Scripture, in that awful voice which was no longer capable of norma

ht of a bottle of cologne on the dresser, one which she had given her mother herself the Christmas before; she had bought it out of her little savings of pocket-money. Maria went unsteadily over to the dres

asked her mother, i

better, mother," replied Maria, piteously. She thought she must a

cy upon me, O Lord, according to Thy loving kindness, according to the multitude of Thy

ed, and opened the cologne bottle with hands which shook like an old man's with the palsy. She poured some cologne on the handkerchief and a pungent odor filled the room. She laid the wet handkerchief on her m

rned low; her mother's convulsed face seemed to waver in unaccountable shadows. Maria sat, not speaking a word, but quivering from head to foot, and her mother kept up her prayers and her verses from Scripture. Maria h

ooked at her, and spoke quite na

ry you are sick. Father

gh," said her mother, st

t on my

d so. Go and get my white crocheted shawl out

-third psalm, then she looked again at Maria seating herself beside her, and said, in her own voice, wre

m, and my

ather would never return with the doctor. It seemed to her, in spite of her prayer, that all hope of relief lay in the doctor, and not in the Lord. It seemed to her that the doctor must

l voice. She looked towards the clothes which she had worn during the day, on a chair. "P

that her mother might never put on those clothes again. She kissed the folds of her mother's dress passionately, and emerged from the closet, the tears streaming down her face, all the muscles of which were convulse

, still in that angry voice, which seemed to have no reason in it. It was the dumb anger o

mother's love, which she was perhaps about to lose forever. The dainty curtains at the windows, the scarf on the dresser, the chintz cover on a chair-every one her mother had planned. She could not remember how much her mother had scolded her, only how much she had loved her. At the moment of death the memory of love reigns triumphant over all

sweet smell which made her faint, but along with the faintness came such an increase of joy that it was almost ecstasy. She turned the knob of her mother

he whispere

r, is moth

ba

ven die. She heard no more of the cries and moans, and somehow now, the absence of them seemed harder to bear than they themselves had been. Suddenly she heard her mother's door open. She heard her father's voice, and the doctor's in response, but she still could not distinguish a word. Presently she heard the front door open and close softly. Then her father hurried down the steps, and got into the doctor's buggy and drove away. It was dark, but she could not mistake her father. She knew that he had gone for another doctor, probably Dr. Willi

realized the revolution of a wheel of torture. She felt that it was simply hideous that the milk should be left at the door that morning, just as if everything was as it had been. When the milkman jumped into his wagon, whistling, it seemed to her as if he were doing an awful thing. The milk-wagon stopped at the opposite house, then moved on out of sight down the street. She wished to herself that the milkman's horse might run away while he was at some door. The rancor which possessed her father, the kicking against the pricks, was possessing her. She

riving fast. Her father was with him, and between them sat a woman. She recognized the woman at once. She was a trained nurse who lived in Edgham. "They have got Miss Bell," she thought; "mother must be awful sick." She knew that Miss Bell's wages were twenty-five dollars a week, and that her father would not have

him while he did it. She felt intuitively that something terrible was to come to her mother because of those cases. She watche

d again to pray, then she stopped. "It is no good praying," she reflected, "God did not stop mother's pain. It was only stopped by that stuff I smelled out in the entry." She could not reason back of that; her terror and misery brought her up against a dead wall. It seemed to h

eave her," he said, with a jerk of his elbow, and speaking still with

't kno

her father, and shut the

nt out herself and stole softly down the stairs. Her father, with an air of angry helplessness, was emptying the coffee-pot in

er, and his tone sounded as if he swore. Maria shra

it on it, in the hottest place. Maria stealthily moved it back while he was searching for the coffee in the pa

aunt Maria for her to come right on," said he, "but she can't get here before afternoon. I don'

r's face that she had no impulse to rebel. She smelled of the canister which her father held out t

you ought to know, I should think you might know enou

ed sort of way. "I guess the coffee is i

say so then?" de

Edgham made a ferocious stride across the kitchen to the pantry. Maria

o reply. Her father seized the coffee canister and approached the stove. "I don't

about a cupful," sa

ther. He poured the coffee-pot full of boiling water from the tea-kettle, then h

ntured Maria. "I

't belie

lieve that

n't you suppose your fathe

e carried back the canister into the pantry, and returned with a panful of eggs. "You

n so proud of. She seemed to feel tears in her heart when she laid the plates, but none sprang to her eyes. Somehow, handling these familiar inanimate things was the acutest torture. Presently she smelled eggs burning. She realized that her father was burning up the eggs, in his utter ignora

door open, and one of the neighbors, Mrs. Jonas White, entered without knocking. She was a

e said, in a loud whisper, "an' I run

first an impulse to burst into tears before t

Mrs. White. "Who is burnin' eggs out

the

ho's up-

y've sent for Aunt Maria, but s

tay till then," said she. "Lillian can get along all rig

frantically stirring the burned eggs, which sent up a monstrous smoke and smell. As she spok

ed Harry Edgham, looking at Mrs.

illiams and Miss

es

s her aunt

sent a t

n that expression of almost childish gratitude came over the ma

y breakfast," said H

don't dare

N

et the breakfast." Mrs. White spoke with a kindly, almost humorous

and he went out of the kitchen as one wh

, as if they were children. "Here is some nice bacon," said she, rummaging in the pantry. "The eggs will be real nice with bacon. Now, Maria, you look in the ice-chest and see if there are any cold potatoes that can be warm

d out in the woodshed, with a plate of cold pota

ake, who made t

the

h did he

n a littl

Mrs. White. "Bring me the coffee canis

, ma

e coffee which her father had made,

rs. White. "This sink is in an awful conditio

, ma

hings goin', or the dreen will be stopped up." Mrs. Whit

he middle of the kitchen, watching M

Now, don't stand there lookin' on; just fly round and do somethin'. I don't believe but the dinin'-r

that numbly, without any

e they could eat while her mother was so ill. Miss Bell also ate heartily, and she felt that she hated her. She was glad that her father refused anything exce

the house in order, until Maria's aunt Maria arrived. One of the physicians went away. For a short time Mar

aria was wiping the dishes. "It is dreadful dangerous to give that, especially if the heart

a hard look. She no longer seemed like a lit

or a while, perhaps," remarked Mrs. White; "

Mrs. Edgham had made her voice of lamentation heard again.

id. She, with Maria, was clearing away the dinner-table then. "W

two, father sai

'ain't tied. Now I'd be willin' to stay right along myself, but I couldn't leave Lillian any length of time. She 'ain't never had

so," repl

and do away with that stunned look on her face. All the time now Maria was saying to herself that her mother was going to

he station to meet Aunt Maria, but when the cab stopped before the house he hurried out at once. Aunt Maria was dressed wholly in black-a black mohair, a little black silk cape, and a black bonnet, from which nodded a jetted tuft. "How is she?" Maria heard her say, in a hushed voice, to her father. Maria stood in the door. Maria heard her father say something in a hushed tone about an operation. Aunt Maria cam

said Harry Edgham, "and go as still as you can." The ma

and mysterious thing, an operation, which means a duel with death himself, was even at that moment going on in her mother's room. She slipped away, and went up-stairs to her own chamber, and softly closed the door. Then she forgot her lack of faith and her rebellion, and

father stood there, and behind him was her aunt Mar

him, he seized upon her as if she were his one straw of salvation,