| Share page |
|
126 |
THE CHIMES. |
||
|
" Nine years ago !" replied the figures.
As they gave the answer, they recalled their outstretched hands; and where their figures had been, there the Bells were.
And they rang; their time being come again. And once again, vast multitudes of phantoms sprang into existence; once again, were incoherently engaged, as they had been before ; once again, faded on the stopping of the chimes; and dwindled into nothing.
"What are these?" he asked his guide. "If I am not mad, what are these ?"
" Spirits of the Bells. Their sound upon the air," returned the child. " They take such shapes and occupations as the hopes and thoughts of mortals, and the recollections they have stored up, give them."
" And you," said Trotty wildly. " What are you ?"
" Hush, hush ! " returned the child. " Look here ! "
In a poor, mean room : working at the same kind of embroidery which he had often, often seen before her; Meg, his own dear daughter, was presented to his view. He made no effort to imprint his kisses on her face; he did not strive to clasp her to his loving heart; he knew that such endearments were for him no more. But he held his trembling breath ; and brushed away the blinding tears, that he might look upon her; that he might only see her.
Ah ! Changed. Changed. The light of the clear eye, how dimmed. The bloom, how faded from the cheek. Beautiful she was, as she had ever been, but Hope, Hope, Hope, oh where Avas the fresh Hope that had spoken to him like a voice!
She looked up from her work, at a companion. Following her eyes, the old man started back.
In the woman grown, he recognised her at a glance. In the long silken hair, he saw the self-same curls; around the lips, the child's expression lingering still. See ! In the eyes, now turned inquiringly on Meg, there shone the very look that scanned those features when he brought her home!
Then what was this, beside him!
Looking with awe into its face, he saw a something reigning there : a lofty something, undefined and indistinct, which made it hardly more than a remembrance of that child—as yonder figure might be—yet it was the same : the same: and wore the dress.
Hark. They were speaking !
"Meg," said Lilian, hesitating. "How often you raise your head from your work to look at me !"
"Are my looks so altered, that they frighten you?" asked Meg.
"Nay, dear! But you smile at that, yourself! Why not smile, when you look at me, Meg ?" |
|||