Jenifer's Prayer, Part II [pp. 183-197]

Jenifer's Prayer.
dear!" exclaimed M-r. Brewer, lookiiig appealingly at his wife. "Dearest, you must tell Mr. Erskine that
Mary really would like to be left
quiet for awhile. Say so now; and
to-morrow you can suggest his going, soon, and returning in a few
weeks." "And to-morrow I can have
a cold and lie in bed. Can't I?'
said Mary. But now they ceased
talking, and heard Horace Erskine
go out of the door to the portico.
"There! he's gone. And I am sure
I can smell a cigar-and I could hate
smoking, couldn't I?" Mother and
father now scolded the saucy child,
and condemned her to solitude and
sleep. And when they were gone
the girl put her head out of the open
window, and gazed across the spreadinrg park, so peaceful in its far-stretching flat, just roughened in places by
the fern that had begun to get brown
under the hot sun; and then she listened to the sound of the wind that
came up in earnest whispers from the
woody corners, and the far-off forests
of oak. The sound rose and fell like
waves, and the silence between those
low outpourings of mysterious sound
was loaded with solemnity.
Do the whispering woods praise
him; and are their prayers in the
tall trees? She was full of fancies
that night. But the words Father
Daniels had said to her seemed to
her to cotme again on the night-breeze,
and then she was quiet and still.
And yet-and yet —though she tried
to forget, and tried to keep her mind
at peace, the spirit within would rise
from its rest, and say that she had
left an atmosphere of evil speaking
and uncharitableness; that malice
and harsh judgment had been hard
at work, and all to poison home, and
to win her from it.
And while she was trying to still
these troublings of the mind, Mr.
Brewer, by her mother's side, was
reading for the first time Mrs. Erskine's letter, which Father Daniels
had returned. " Mvy dear, my dear,"
said Mr. Brewer, "a very improper
letter. I think Mary is a very extraordinary girl not to have been
prejudiced against me. I shall always feel grateful to her. And as
to this letter, which I call a very
painful letter, don't you think we had
better burn it?" And so, by the assistance of a lighted taper, Mr. Brewer cleared that evil thing out of his
path for ever.
"Eleanor," said Lady Greystock,
"how lovely this evening is. The
moon is full, and how glorious!
Shall we drive by a roundabout way
to Blagden? James," speaking to
the man who occupied the seat behind, "11how far is it out of our way if
we go through the drive in Beremouth Park, and come out by the
West Lodge into the Blagden turnpike road?" "It will be two miles
further, my lady. But the road is
very good, and the carriage will run
very light over the gravelled road in
the park." " Then we'll go." So on
getting to the bottom of the street in
which Mrs. Morier lived, Lady Grey
stock took the road to Beremouth;
and the ponies seemed to enjoy the
change, and the whlole world, except
those three who were passing so
pleasantly through a portion of it,
seemed to sleep beneath the face of
that great moon, wearing, as all full
moons do, a sweet grave look of
watching on its face.
"Isn't it glorious? Isn't it grand,
this great expanse and this perfect
calm? Ah, there goes a bat; and a
droning beetle on the wing just makes
one know,what silence we are passing through. How pure the air
feels. Oh, what blessings we have in
life-how many more than we know
of. I think of that in the still evenings often. Do you, Eleanor?"
"Yes, Lady Greystock." But
Eleanor spoke in a very calm, business-like, convinced sort of manner;
not the least infected by the tears of
tenderness and the poetical feeling
that Lady Greystock had betrayed.
"Yes, Lady. Greystock. And when
in great moments "-" Great mo
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