Elinor Wyllys; Or, The Young Folk of Longbridge: A Tale. Volume 2Cooper, Susan Fenimore
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Elinor Wyllys; Or, The Young Folk of Longbridge: A Tale. Volume 2
Cooper, Susan Fenimore
Frontier and pioneer life -- United States -- Fiction; Historical fiction
That afternoon, just as the autumn sun was sinking towards the
woods, throwing a rich, warm glow over the country, a simple
procession was seen moving slowly and sadly over the Longbridge
highway. It was the body of Charlie Hubbard, brought home by his
friends, to pass a few hours beneath his mother's roof, ere it
was consigned to its last resting-place under the sod. We have
not yet dared to intrude upon the stricken inmates of the old
grey cottage; we shall not attempt to paint their grief, such
grief is sacred. The bereaved mother, half-infirm in body and
mind, seemed to feel the blow without fully understanding it:
Patsey, poor Patsey felt the affliction fully, comprehended it
wholly. Charlie had been her idol from infancy; she had watched
over the boy with an engrossing affection, an earnest devotion,
which could be only compared to a mother's love, which might
claim a mother's sacred name. She was entirely overcome when the
young artist's body was brought into the house, and placed in the
coffin, beneath his father's portrait.
"My boy!--my brother!--Charlie!" she cried wildly; all her usual
calmness, her usual firmness giving way at the moment, as the
young face she loved so tenderly was first disclosed to her view,
pale and lifeless. But the fine features of the young artist,
almost feminine in their delicate beauty, returned no answering
glance--they were rigid, cold, and partially discoloured by
death.
Hazlehurst and de Vaux passed the night beside the body of their
friend; Miss Agnes and Mrs. Van Horne were with the bereaved
mother and sisters.
Early on the following morning, Mr. Wyllys and Elinor came to
take a last look at their young friend.
'Can it indeed be true?--Charlie gone for ever, gone so
suddenly!' thought Elinor, as she leaned over his body, weeping
with the sincere, heartfelt grief of a true friend, until
Hazlehurst, pained by her emotion, gently drew her away; not,
however, before she had bent over poor Charlie, and gently kissed
the discoloured forehead of her young companion, for the first
and the last time.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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