The Mother's Recompense, Volume 1: A Sequel to Home InfluenceAguilar, Grace
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The Mother's Recompense, Volume 1: A Sequel to Home Influence
Aguilar, Grace
Domestic fiction; Mothers and daughters -- Fiction
Playfully he granted the desired forgiveness, and they departed on their
walk. For some little time they walked in silence. Before they were
aware of it, a gentle ascent conducted them to a spot, not only lovely
in its own richness, but in the extensive view that stretched beneath
them. The wide ocean lay slumbering at their feet; the brilliant rays of
the sun, which it reflected as a mirror, appeared to lull it to rest,
the very waves broke softly on the shore. To the left extended the
snow-white cliffs, throwing in shadow part of the ocean, and bringing
forward their own illumined walls in bold relief against the dark blue
sea. Ships of every size, from the floating castle in the offing to the
tiny pleasure boat, whose white sails shining in the sun caused her to
be distinguished at some distance, skimming along the ocean as a bird of
snowy plumage across the heavens, the merchant vessels, the packets
entering and departing, even the blackened colliers, added interest to
the scene; for at the distance Herbert and Mary stood, no confusion was
heard to disturb the moving picture. On their right the beautiful
country peculiar to Kent spread out before them in graceful undulations
of hill and valley, hop-ground and meadow, wherein the sweet fragrance
of the newly-mown grass was wafted at intervals to the spot where they
stood. Wild flowers of various kinds were around them; the hawthorn
appearing like a tree of snow in the centre of a dark green hedge; the
modest primrose and the hidden violet yet lingered, as if loth to
depart, though their brethren of the summer had already put forth their
budding blossoms. A newly-severed trunk of an aged tree invited them to
sit and rest, and the most tasteful art could not have placed a rustic
seat in a more lovely scene.
Long and painfully did Mary gaze around her, as if she would engrave
within her heart every scene of the land she was so soon to leave.
"Herbert," she said, at length, "I never wished to gaze on futurity
before, but now, oh, I would give much to know if indeed I shall ever
gaze on these scenes again. Could I but think I might return to them,
the pang of leaving would lose one half its bitterness. I know this is a
weak and perhaps sinful feeling; but in vain I have lately striven to
bow resignedly to my Maker's will, even should His call meet me, as I
sometimes fear it will, in a foreign land, apart from all, save one,
whom I love on earth."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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