But now, when the last act was performed
for them, and the burial hymn had been sung, there was no one to speak
for them the usual thanks for these kindnesses, and just as this came
painfully to the sensibilities of the thoughtful, Barton uncovered his
head and said the few needed words in a clear, steady voice, with such
grace, that matronly women would gladly have kissed him; and young
maidens noticed, what they had observed before, that there was
something of nameless attraction in his face and manner.
Kind hands and sympathizing hearts were about the Ridgeleys, to
solace, cheer and help; but the great void in their circle and hearts,
only God and time could fill. The heart, when it loses out of it one
object of tenderness and love, only contracts the closer and more
tenderly about what it has left.
* * * * *
Time elapses. It kindly goes forward and takes us with it. No matter
how resolutely we cling to darkness and sorrow, time loosens
our hearts, dries our tears, and while we declare we will not be
comforted, and reproach ourselves, as the first poignancy of grief
consciously fades, yet we are comforted. The world will not wait for
us to mourn. The objects of love and of hate we may bear along with
us, but distance will intervene between us and the sources of deep
sorrow.
So far as Bart was concerned, his nature was in the main healthy,
with only morbid tendencies, and the great blow of his brother's death
seemed in some way to restore the equilibrium of his mind, and leave
it to act more freely, under guidance of the strong common sense
inherited from his mother.
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