crape, and wear gloomy drapery, and shut up our shutters to keep the sunlight out of our rooms? Have we any right to stop the sunlight anywhere? Wouldn't it be better honour to our Christian friends who have gone, to be glad for them, and speak as if we were; and let it be seen that all the sorrow we have is on our own account, and we do not mean to indulge that selfishly? We do not sorrow as those that have no hope; for we believe that them which sleep in Jesus will God bring with him. There will be a glorious meeting again, by and by, when Jesus comes; then we and our dear ones who have loved him will be together again, and all of us with the Lord."
"Then people ought not to wear black for mourning?" said Matilda with a brightened but undecided face.
"I think myself it is a very unchristian fashion. It is not according to the spirit of the early Christian times; for people then who had had friends slain by wild beasts, and burned to death, for the truth of Jesus, gathered the poor remains that were left and laid them to rest, with the motto cut in the door of their resting place, – 'In peace. In Christ.'"
"Did they!" said Matilda.
"A very great many of them."
"Then wouldn't you wear mourning, Mr. Richmond?"
"I should not. I never have."
"Nor crape on your hat?"
"Nor crape anywhere."
"Then I don't care!" said Matilda.
"I do not think you need care."
"But it is very disagreeable!" continued Matilda.
"What?"
"That people will say such things."
Mr. Richmond smiled. "You must try and learn to bear that, Tilly. But it is not very difficult, when you are sure that you are in the right?"
"I think it is difficult to bear," said Matilda.
"The only question is, what is right? Do you remember the fairy tale, about the journey that a great many ladies and gentlemen took to the top of a hill, to get certain treasures that were there?"
"The golden bird and the singing water!" said Matilda. "Yes, I know. Do you know it, Mr. Richmond?"
"I heard you telling it to Norton."
"I didn't know that you heard!" said Matilda. "Well, Mr. Richmond? – how could you remember!"
"Well – if they looked round, when they were going up the hill, they lost all."
"They were turned into stone. And there were all sorts of noises in their ears, to make them look round."
"The only way to get to the top, was to stop their ears."
"Yes, Mr. Richmond; I know; I understand. But what golden bird and singing water are we going up hill after?"
"Something better. We want the 'Well done, good and faithful servant,' – do we not? And if we would have that, we must stop our ears against all sorts of voices that would turn aside our eyes from what is at the top of the hill."
"But Mr. Richmond, it is not wicked to wear mourning, is it?"
"No. I was thinking then of other things. But it is very unlike the spirit of religion, when a friend has gone home, to make a parade of gloom about it; very unlike the truth of Christ."
"Mr. Richmond, I am very glad; and now I know what is right, I am very much obliged to you. And Miss Redwood said your dinner would be ready in a quarter of an hour. I guess it is ready now."
Which was the fact; and Matilda ran home, in a different sort of gale now, and at luncheon was quite as light hearted as usual.
CHAPTER IV
It was needful for Norton and Matilda, or they thought so, to take the early train which left the station at half past seven o'clock. The next train would not be till near eleven; and that, it was decided, would not do at all for their purposes. Taking the early train, they would have to go without breakfast; but that was no matter; they would get breakfast at Poughkeepsie, and have so much the more fun. The omnibus came for them a little after half past six, and they were ready; Matilda with an important basket on her arm, which Norton gallantly took charge of.
It was a delightful experience altogether. The omnibus did not immediately take the road to the station; there were several other passengers to gather up, and they drove round corners and stopped at houses in different streets of the village. First they took in old Mr. Kurtz; he was going to New York for his business, Norton whispered to Matilda; he had a large basket and an old lady with him. Then the omnibus went round into the street behind the parsonage and received Mr. Schonflöcken, the Lutheran minister, and from another house another old lady with another basket. Two men got in from the corner. Lastly the omnibus stopped before a house near the baker's; and here they waited. The people were not ready. There were two children missing from the travelling party, it seemed. Inquiries and exclamations were bandied about; the stage driver knocked impatiently and cried out to hurry; Matilda was very much afraid they might miss the train. "Never mind; he knows his business," Norton remarked coolly. At last a man who had been in quest, brought back the stray children from an opposite lumber yard, calling out that they were found; then there were kisses and leave takings, and "Good bye, grandma!" and "Come back again!" – and finally the mother put her children into the omnibus, the first, the second, the third, and the fourth; then got in herself, and the vehicle lumbered on. The omnibus was crowded now; and the new comers had been eating a breakfast of fried cakes and fish, pretty near the stove where it was cooked; for the smoke of the fry had filled their clothes. Of course it filled the omnibus also. This could be borne only a few minutes.
"Dear Norton," Matilda whispered, "can't you open this window for me? I cannot breathe."
"You'll catch cold," said Norton.
"No I won't. Please do! it is choking me."
Norton laughed, and opened the window, and Matilda putting her face close to the opening was able to get a breath of fresh air. Then she enjoyed herself again. The grey dawn was brightening over the fields; the morning air was brisk and frosty; and as soon as Matilda's lungs could play freely again, so could her imagination. How pretty the dusky clumps of trees were against the brightening sky; how lovely that growing light in the east, which every moment rose stronger and revealed more. The farm houses they passed looked as if they had not waked up yet; barns and farmyards were waiting for the day's work to begin; a waggoner or two, going slowly to the station, were all the moving things they saw. The omnibus passed them, and lumbered on.
"Norton," said Matilda suddenly, bringing her face round from the window, "it's delicious to be up so early."
"Unless you are obliged to take other people's breakfast before you get your own," said Norton. He looked disgusted, and Matilda could not help laughing in her turn.
"Put your nose to my window, – you can," she said. "The air is as sweet as can be."
"Outside" – grumbled Norton.
"Well, that is what I am getting," said Matilda. "Can't you get some of it? – poor Norton!"
"What I don't understand," said Norton, "is how people live."
At this point, the old woman with the basket got out, where a cross road branched off. Matilda was obliged to move up into the vacated place, to
