Ishmael, or In The Depths - Page 93/567

"But I tell you that Nora is as innocent as her own babe; and her

character shall be cleared before the day is out!" exclaimed Hannah,

tears of rage and shame welling to her eyes.

"Yes, honey, I dessay; and when it's done I'll come back and nuss

her--for nothing, too," replied the old woman dryly, as she put on her

bonnet and shawl.

This done she returned to the side of Hannah.

"Now, you know I have told you everything what to do for Nora; and

by-and-by, I suppose, old Dinah will come, as old Jovial promised; and

maybe she'll stay and 'tend to the gal and the child; 'twon't hurt her,

you know, 'cause niggers aint mostly got much character to lose. There,

child, take up your money; I wouldn't take it from you, no more'n I'd

pick a pocket. Good-by."

Hannah would have thrown the money after the dame as she left the hut,

but that Nora's dulcet tones recalled her: "Hannah, don't!"

She hurried to the patient's bedside; there was another rising of the

waves of life; Nora's face, so dark and rigid a moment before, was now

again soft and luminous.

"What is it, sister?" inquired Hannah, bending over her.

"Don't be angry with her, dear; she did all she could for us, you know,

without injuring herself--and we had no right to expect that."

"But--her cruel words!"

"Dear Hannah, never mind; when you are hurt by such, remember our

Saviour; think of the indignities that were heaped upon the Son of God;

and how meekly he bore them, and how freely he forgave them."

"Nora, dear, you do not talk like yourself."

"Because I am dying, Hannah. My boy came in with the rising sun, and I

shall go out with its setting."

"No, no, my darling--you are much better than you were. I do not see why

you should die!" wept Hannah.

"But I do; I am not better, Hannah--I have only floated back. I am

always floating backward and forward, towards life and towards death;

only every time I float towards death I go farther away, and I shall

float out with the day."

Hannah was too much moved to trust herself to speak.

"Sister," said Nora, in a fainter voice, "I have one last wish."

"What is it, my own darling?"

"To see poor, poor Herman once more before I die."

"To forgive him! Yes, I suppose that will be right, though very hard,"

sighed the elder girl.