aunt lizzie slept beside violet that night, with her arms tightly clasped around the little girl for whom the day was to break so bitterly. she found the soft breathing of the child, so peaceful in its restfulness, almost more difficult to listen to than the quick uneasy panting of the afternoon, for she knew well the anguish to which she must by-and-by awaken.

"so he giveth his beloved sleep," she murmured to herself as, in the summer dawn, she watched the little face so tranquilly turned towards her; and though occasionally there was a little fluttering sob, it was only a relic of yesterday's passionate weeping. once when violet smiled in her sleep and nestled more closely to her, lizzie kissed her gently on the forehead. the child moved, smiled again, a broadening, happy smile, and said with a sigh of content, "on mother's breast."

aunt lizzie could not sleep. she watched the[pg 106] bands of crimson rising slowly up behind the roofs opposite like streaks of blood. the cocks crew and screamed from yard, and garden, and barn. the fountain at the angle of the street dribbled and splashed monotonously. there was a child crying in an opposite house, bitterly, ceaselessly. the canary awoke, stretched its wings with the help of its thin yellow legs, took a drink at the green fountain, having eyed it first with suspicion, and then burst out into a loud joyous carol. aunt lizzie was afraid it would awake violet; but she slept calmly on.

then the sun itself rose up in all its splendour and shone gloriously over all. the red roofs blazed and glistened. the orange weather-cock on the chimney of madame bellard's house looked as if each separate painted feather on its wings were a tongue of fire, while the scarlet nasturtiums creeping up the red brick shaft trembled and glowed brilliantly.

aunt lizzie's mind, from the long night's watching, felt hot and confused. the rays of the sun which shone slantingly through the round old-fashioned panes of glass in the window threw stripes of prismatic colour on the floor and on the chest which held the dead mother's clothes and all the little relics of her homely happy life. if that bitter crying opposite would cease, lizzie felt as if she could think [pg 107]connectedly. if it were not for the fear of disturbing violet, she would have got up ere now and closed the open pane in the window.

she tried to think of the little children at home at gützberg, of their bright smiles, and hearts innocent of care, but it was impossible. a drum in the distant barrack had begun to throb, and her heart, leaping up to a sudden agony, throbbed with it.

how many other hearts, too, were stirring at that call! men buckling on their armour; and women, who had not slept all night, starting up to fresh paroxysms of grief and despair. it was vain to hope that all the brave fellows going forth this day from their homes would come back to them safe and unharmed. yet each one cried in their heart, "o god, let this bitterness not come to me"—"spare, good lord, spare my husband"—"lord jesus, have pity on my son"—"beloved, thou wilt return to me safe"—"ah, dear one, forget me not;" while the little ones smiled their adieus, knowing not the dread future.

at six o'clock the whole town seemed astir. men were talking in the streets; spurs were clanking on the pavement as soldiers hurried to and fro. bugles were calling, and the incessant rolling of drums came now, not only from the distant barrack across the river, but it seemed as if the whole air and[pg 108] the blue sky itself were full of this dread prophetic sound.

at seven o'clock, lizzie, slipping her arm quietly from under violet, got up and dressed herself. when she came to the window, the first thing she saw opposite was ella. she was standing in her little night-dress at the small top window in the roof. her fair hair was partly tied back with a little white night-cap, but stray locks hung out disconsolately. her face was supported by her two dimpled hands, and her elbows rested on the sill. it needed but one glance at the child's face and eyes for aunt lizzie to know who it was who had spent the night in such ceaseless bitter weeping. even now, though her attention seemed temporarily attracted by the bustle in the street, she saw the white frilled sleeve from time to time passed quickly across the child's face.

in a few minutes fritz appeared at the other little window in the red roof opposite. he also was attired in his night-dress; but he had a drum hung round his neck by a piece of cord, on which, as he looked down into the street, he began to beat with a prodigious noise; and on his head was a newspaper cap, from which streamed ribbons of scarlet, yellow, and blue. when he was momentarily exhausted he flung open the window, and stretched out his head excitedly.

[pg 109]

"war, war, war!" he shouted. "fritz will go to the war. fritz will beat the drum and kill the french, and bang and hack and slash with all his might, till every man is dead." a brass trumpet which generally hung on a nail in the garret window, and which was often used by fritz as a signal to attract violet's attention, was now taken down and blown vehemently into the air; and then the drum was rattled upon more vigorously than ever.

a few of those gathered beneath in the street looked up on hearing the noise, and recognizing fritz, smiled somewhat sadly; but when lizzie glanced across again at the little window of ella's room, the child had vanished, and the drum having ceased clattering for a moment, she could hear that the crying in the room opposite had been resumed.

"how she does weep, poor little girl! and what a noise the boy makes," said lizzie, closing over the casement. "he will certainly awaken our violet." she tried to attract fritz's attention, to make him desist, but finding it useless, she fastened the bolt and turned back into the room.

to her surprise, on looking round, she found violet sitting up in her bed, her eyes wide open and her face very pale.

"aunt lizzie?"

[pg 110]

"well, darling, hast thou been long awake?"

"a little while. when will father be here?"

"very soon now."

"i do not want to say 'good-bye,' aunt lizzie."

"no, darling, it is a hard word to speak."

"will father say 'good-bye' to violet?"

"i suppose so. it is at least likely; but wherefore, darling child, dost thou ask aunt lizzie this question?"

"i do not want to say 'good-bye,'" repeated violet in the same sad voice. "it makes violet cry to say 'good-bye.'"

"ah"—aunt lizzie paused with a little start as she suddenly recognized the cause of the child's distressful thoughts—"ah, i understand it. violet would rather that there were no 'good-byes' said. aunt lizzie will tell father so, and he will understand what violet wishes. is not this what thou meanest, dearest child?"

violet nodded her head. "aunt lizzie, what is fritz shouting about over there at the window? and is not his father also going away to the war?"

"yes, my child; and fritz is screaming out that he will be a soldier too. he is a noisy lad, that fritz."

"violet wants to be a soldier too," said she in an[pg 111] almost inaudible voice; "but father is so long in coming, and violet's heart goes so quick, aunt lizzie, and it makes her sick."

"here, let me smooth thy hair." her aunt stooped quickly and kissed the little white face. "let me bathe thy face and put on a nice clean pinafore, and then thou wilt look so bright and fresh for father. and now try and drink this cup of milk. it will do thee good."

she offered the cup to her, but the child shook her head. "i could not drink it. all the morning something is in violet's throat, just here, and she cannot make it go down."

"well, we will not mind the milk." aunt lizzie put the cup on the table, and brushed out her long fair hair and tied it up with her purple ribbon. she bathed her face with warm water from the sauce-pan on the stove, and the pinafore was already half over her head, when the door opened and john came in.

"aunt lizzie, is it father? tell him, tell him quickly," cried violet in a sudden tremor. "violet cannot be a soldier unless thou tellest him first what i said to thee."

lizzie turned from the bed, leaving the pinafore still over the child's face. john was already half-way across the room, and there was such a look of [pg 112]questioning anguish in his gaze as it met hers that she could scarcely frame the words of poor violet's request. she whispered, however, something in his ear, which after a second's thought he readily understood; and stepping over towards the bed, he waited until lizzie drew the pinafore down from his little girl's face, gazing at her with the expression in his eyes of one who waits with a speechless pain and dread to look on the features of the dead.

but what was this! when the face was uncovered there was a smile, an actual smile on her lips, and one which grew with the mounting colour in her cheeks as she stretched up her arms quickly and said in a hurried whisper, "father, violet has been waiting for thee."

"yes, darling, i am somewhat late, but it was with difficulty i could push my way up here through the streets. i thought at one time i should hardly have been able to force my way through them at all, and that i should have been forced to say 'good-bye' from the street."

"from the street?" cried aunt lizzie and violet in one breath.

"yes; the colonel has decided that we are to march through the market-place and then down by the fountain and along past these windows to the station."

[pg 113]

"and i shall see thee again, father?"

"yes, my darling."

"aunt lizzie will hold me in her arms, and i will look out at thee from the window."

"yes, little treasure, yes."

"and violet will watch thee coming up the street; and then she will see thee all the way along, along, until at last she will look, and look and will see thee no more." the smile had spread wider and wider, and the eyes fixed on his face had dilated and darkened to their deepest purple; but now there came a sudden pause, and the lips trembled. it was evident the struggle could not last much longer. the little heart was brave, but the flesh was weak.

"father, i have a secret."

"yes, my own violet; what is it?"

he stooped down, and aunt lizzie moved away.

"dost thou see my face, father?"

"yes, yes; the sweetest face in all the world.

"but dost thou see it, father?"

"yes."

"put thy arms round my neck, and i will tell thee violet's secret."

he put his arms round his little daughter, and held her tightly to his breast while she placed her lips to his ear. "violet is a soldier. the lord jesus[pg 114] can make even little sick girls brave. and, father, listen; look once more at violet's face; look at her eyes." there was a pause, and then came the whisper, scarcely more than a fluttering breath—"dost thou not see?—no more tears."

he held her back for one moment and looked into her eyes. he kissed her passionately twice; then recognizing that this whisper was his darling's farewell, he drew her to his heart with one long, silent pressure, and turned away quickly. one moment he gazed from the window, then stretching out his hand to lizzie with averted face, he passed out into the street.

the farewell kiss

the farewell kiss. page 114.