THE STORM."He clothes the lilies, and feeds the ravens."
THE STORM.
"He clothes the lilies, and feeds the ravens."
Notfar from the sea-coast, in a cavern formed by the fall of an enormous rock, after a period of about fourteen days from the occurrences which we have just described, we again find the unfortunate family of O'Neil. Aided by his herculean strength, he had succeeded, after the most vigorous efforts, in removing the heavy fragments of fallen rock from the interior of the cave, and thus gained sufficient space to shelter himself and his children from the piercing winds and increasing cold of autumn. The entrance to this subterranean dwelling was partially hidden by a projection in the wall of rock, and thiskind freak of nature not only secured them from the unwelcome or untimely gaze of prying eyes, but also gave them some protection against the wind and rain, which might otherwise have rendered their refuge almost untenantable. There was a small opening in the vaulted roof of the cavern, also formed by the hand of nature, which served both as window and chimney, yet which might be entirely closed by rolling a stone upon the outside of the cave. The inside of this primitive dwelling was indeed very far from offering what those accustomed to the slightest degree of comfort are in the habit of calling the "necessaries of life"; yet it might be seen, upon the most cursory glance, that tasteful and industrious hands had labored to remove the most striking appearances of discomfort, and had skilfully used every available means to provide for the most pressing wants of the afflicted family. Some fragments of rock, which they still suffered to remain on the inside, had had their projecting inequalities carefully hewn away, and were thus changed into chairs and tables. Twolow benches of stone, which they had found laying along the walls, and which in their long, narrow form somewhat resembled coffins, had been slightly hollowed out, and, covered with reeds and soft moss, they answered in place of beds and bedsteads. A little fire burned in one corner, on a hearth formed of two flat stones, while Molly, occupied with her sewing, was sitting near the entrance, apparently with the intention of getting all the light she could obtain, as it fell but scantily into the interior of the cavern. Kitty, with her head resting in her sister's lap, was kneeling at her feet.
"Have you almost finished my little frock, Molly?" asked the blind child.
"You will soon have it to put on, Kitty; I have only the sleeves left to finish now!"
"It takes you a great while to make it, Molly."
"That is very true, darling, for the only needle that I have is too fine to carry the coarse thread; so no matter how much I hurry, the work progresses very slowly."
"O my good sister Molly! How muchcare and trouble you have always had about me! If I could only see, I would work so willingly! but now I can do nothing, except to pray always to the Blessed Virgin to reward you for all the care you take of the poor little blind girl. How often and often you have almost starved yourself, that you might be able to give me something to eat, trying to conceal from me that you were so hungry yourself! but you did not always succeed in hiding it from me, Molly. How lovingly you clasp me in your soft arms, and hold me close to your bosom, to try and warm me when my limbs are half frozen with cold!—But hush!—don't you hear something, sister?"
"Nothing, Kitty, but the wind, which howls as it winds through these desolate cliffs."
"O, how frightful it is here when father is not with us! 'I will not be back for three days,'—did he not say so, Molly, as he went away?"
"Yes, my darling. 'When the sun for the third time stands midway in the sky, I will again be with you,' he said, as he kissed us at parting."
"Then he will be here to-morrow. But do you know where he is gone?"
"He went to seek work in one of the more distant villages. Perhaps some of the farmers may employ him; he thought he might be able to gain something by aiding in the labor of harvesting. Although we have been so very economical in the use of the food which our kind neighbors gave the morning upon which we were driven from our home, it is already exhausted. If our father should fail in his efforts to get work, we must die of hunger, Kitty."
"What do you say? Die of hunger! How horrible! It would have been better, then, that we had been torn to pieces at once by the furious bloodhounds which the angry landlord threatened to set upon us, than to linger on through such a frightful death.—But, Molly, do you hear nothing? nothing at all?"
"No, little sister; nothing but the raging of the storm and the surging of the waves as they break upon the coast. You are always so nervous and excitable when our father isaway; but be quiet, for another Father, far more powerful, and still more kind than our dear one, is always with us, and watches over us with tender eyes. He will never forsake us; he will deliver us in the time of need; but we must do all we can to help ourselves. In the hour of our greatest necessity, he stands closest to us. He will not suffer us to perish utterly."
"Talk on; talk on, dear Molly," said Kitty, pleadingly; "if I can only hear your voice, I don't feel so much afraid, it is so soft and sweet! It is so much like our dear mother's, that I often fancy it she who is speaking to me.—But you surely hear something now, sister!"
"I hear nothing but the long cries of the sea-gulls, as they flutter o'er the waves, and their sharp, shrill tones tell us that we will have more wind and rain."
"It is very strange that you do not hear anything; for it has seemed to me four or five times as if I heard the death-sobs of some one in the last agony, and a despairing cry for help has at intervals rung in my ears!Are you crying, sister? Or what is that hot drop which has just fallen upon my hand?"
"It is only a drop of blood; I have stuck my finger with this fine needle. Your anxiety has excited me also, and it seems to me now as if I too heard long sighs and groans near us. It may, indeed, be possible that some unhappy creature requires our aid. I will at least look out and see if I can discover from whence the sounds come. Remain sitting quite still here, Kitty; your little frock is finished, and as soon as I come back I will put it on you, darling."
Molly stepped out in front of the cave. She looked eagerly round in every direction, but she saw nothing save the desolate cliffs, whose naked sides had bid defiance to the storms of centuries, and piles of rocks overgrown with moss, like the gravestones used in the times of the heathens. From one point, where the formation of the hills allowed the distant scene to be visible through the aperture, she saw far in the distance the foaming, tossing waves of the white, wide ocean.
girl looking over an injured person lying on the groundMOLLY AND THE STRANGER.
MOLLY AND THE STRANGER.
MOLLY AND THE STRANGER.
"O, if the slight and tottering boat of some poor fisher, or if some richly laden ship, is now tossing about upon the raging waves of this wild sea, pity those, O thou good and powerful God! who have nothing but a plank between them and eternity!" prayed Molly, with lifted hands. Then again she thought she heard a deep sigh very near her, and at the same moment she stumbled and nearly fell over something which lay at her feet; and as she stooped down to see what it was, she discovered with horror that the dark object before her was a human form, over whose face the fresh blood was streaming, and whose hand still grasped a gun. It was too dark to be able to see the features of the man distinctly; but although his clothes were soiled with blood, it was evident that he belonged to the higher walks of life.
"Holy Virgin! What can—what shall I do?" exclaimed Molly. "The wounded man is still living; but if I leave him lying here alone, he must certainly perish; and, poor weak girl that I am, how can I possibly lift his heavy body and carry it into the cave?"
She raised the head of the wounded stranger, and held it gently in her arms, so that it might rest more comfortably than upon the hard earth. At last the thought that it would be possible for her to drag him to the cavern struck the compassionate girl.
"Perhaps I am strong enough to drag him home; I will at least try it," said Molly.
She ran first rapidly back to the cave, in order to remove carefully all the stones which were to be found upon the way over which she judged it best to drag the body; then, hastily returning to the wounded man, she tenderly supported his shoulders, and succeeded in thus moving him a few steps forward. But she was soon forced to stop to get breath and collect new strength; yet she did not suffer her courage to sink, and after many forced stops and many vigorous efforts, she at last succeeded in dragging the wounded man to the entrance of their strange place of shelter. She laid him softly down on the outside of the curtain of rock, ran within, and while she, exhausted and out of breath, explained to little Kitty that she had found a human beingwho sadly needed their help, she hastily carried the moss from the two coffin-like beds standing against the rocky walls, made a bed of it by the side of the dying fire, and rested not until she had placed the wounded man upon it. She then stirred up the fire, to diffuse more heat as well as to obtain more light, placed shivering little Kitty somewhat nearer to the genial blaze, and again left the cavern to bring some fresh, cool water from the spring, which was not far distant. She was soon back again, and began, as carefully as possible, to wash the clotted blood away from the face of the wounded man, which was still flowing from an open gash upon the forehead. But as she continued to bathe it with the fresh cold water, the blood gradually ceased to flow, and with the hope of entirely stopping it, she took the only handkerchief which she possessed from her neck, and bound it round the wounded head. At last the man opened his eyes. At that moment Molly recognized him,—and, with a sudden shudder, turned away! It was the landlord, whose stony heart her father had in vain attempted to move,before whom he had uselessly humbled himself to the very dust, from whose mouth the fiercest, the most inhuman threats had proceeded, who now lay, prostrate and helpless, before her, whom she had taken in her own arms and painfully brought to their last refuge! But the struggle did not last long in the depths of Molly's heart. What she ought to do, what duty and humanity ordained should be done, even for the most bitter enemy, stood in clear and plain letters before her soul. She did not repent for a moment of that which she had already done; and she determined to offer up everything in her power to preserve the sinking life in the bosom of the barbarous landlord. She knew, by the wild rolling of his bloodshot eyes, by the feverish color which burned upon his cheeks, and which had suddenly succeeded to a death-like pallor, that his life was in danger; but she determined not to tell her sister what a dreadful guest was indebted to them for their strange hospitality. It suddenly occurred to her that she had taken all the moss from the bed of the little girl, and that she must again venture out to search for more;and she rapidly made ready to seek it in the neighborhood of the cavern, before it should be too dark to collect it. When she returned with enough for the little bed, she handed a potato, which she had just raked from the warm ashes, to her little sister for supper.
"It is all I can possibly give you, Kitty," she said, in a melancholy tone. "Even the salt is all out; let us hope that our dear father will bring some more home with him to-morrow. Before you go to sleep, darling, pray to the Holy Virgin that she will take care of him, and that she will lead him back again in safety to our arms!"
She then placed her sister upon her little bed of moss, sang with her soft young voice a soothing lullaby which she had learned from her mother, and not until she was convinced, by the sweet and measured breathing of the blind child, that she was certainly asleep, did her soothing cradle-hymn cease, or did she leave her side. Then she hastened to the wounded man, by whom she determined to watch during the weary hours of the long night.
She found him also sleeping, with his head sunk upon his breast, while he groaned frequently, as if tortured by some frightful dream. He still held the gun spasmodically clasped in his clenched hand; Molly carefully tried to wrest it from his iron grasp. At last she succeeded, for although he sprang up fiercely and looked wildly around him for a moment, he again fell back almost immediately, exhausted and without power. She then took her station near him, that she might watch his feverish movements; her eyes rested long and searchingly upon his features, which strangely reminded her of some face familiar to her, and although she earnestly sought to trace the resemblance, yet she did not succeed in finding out the person whom the countenance of the landlord constantly recalled to her uncertain memory.
What a night for the poor maiden! The storm of rain and wind raged still more furiously than it had done during the day. It broke and roared through the sharp rocks, while the howling and whistling of the raging winds sounded like the sobs and sighs ofthousands of dying men. Like continuous peals of distant thunder, as they flung themselves in their might against the steep and jagged rocks of the cliff, the breaking of the raging waves might be continually heard. But they only broke to renew the strife; to collect again vast masses of the maddened sea to renew the vain attack upon the rock-bound coast.
For a lone and unprotected girl it was also fearful in the inside of the cave. The wind would not suffer the thick smoke to ascend through its usual outlet, and it filled the room with its stifling vapor, while the dying coals glowed upon the hearth like fiery eyes glittering through the gloom, and the heavy, feverish, spasmodic breathing of the suffering man rendered it still more dreadful. Molly felt as if surrounded by the icy air of a charnel-house; as if the cold hands of the dead grasped her throat and stifled her breath! All her limbs shivered as if struck by a sudden chill, until she at last conquered herself sufficiently to be able to leave the spot in which she was seated. After walking up anddown the cave for a short time, she grew more tranquil; folding her hands, she knelt by the side of her sleeping sister, and prayed for some time; then she threw some turf upon the dying fire, and again seated herself beside the stranger. Pious hymns breathed lightly through her youthful lips; as the simple but touching words sank deeper into her heart and warmed her soul, her voice unconsciously swelled louder and fuller. The wounded man awoke. Scarcely daring to breathe, he listened to the sweet, enchanting tones, that, like wreaths of early flowers, wound themselves round and into his rapidly returning senses, melting away the bands of ice which surrounded his breast, and stealing into the hidden recesses of his wondering heart.
"Where am I?" he suddenly asked, trying to rise as he spoke, while he put his hand to his wounded head. "No, no, it is no dream!" he continued; and then, as if he wished to convince himself that he was really awake, he said, "And yet it seemed to me that I heard the voice of Kitty."
When Molly heard him speak, she sprangup, and then knelt down beside him, to ascertain if he required help. The old man at that moment first became aware of the maiden's presence. In the dim light which glimmered from the fire, it would have been difficult to have discerned her countenance clearly. Yet, as if it were a matter of the greatest moment to him to be able to see her features distinctly, he leaned forward and gazed earnestly into her face. Then, as if he feared she might suddenly escape him, he seized her rapidly with both hands, drew her as close as possible to him, and looked long and eagerly into her soft blue eyes, from which so much heavenly sweetness, so much tranquil devotion, shone upon him. "Kitty!" he exclaimed at last, with a voice of anguish.
"Kitty, my daughter!" he breathed once more in stifled and scarcely audible tones, and then sank fainting upon the floor.
"Holy Virgin! Help! he is dying!" cried Molly, wringing her hands. Tortured by the most dreadful fear, she placed her hand upon his heart; but it seemed to her as if it had already ceased to beat. Then she held hercheek close to his lips, but no breath gave evidence that life yet lingered in his breast. In an agony of fright, she sprang up, seized a bucket, and ran to the entrance of the cave. The morning had not yet dawned, and the storm was still raging without, yet nothing could stay her course; neither the furious wind, which, as if armed with a thousand human hands, seized her upon every side, and with which she was forced to battle for every step which she gained in advance; nor the uncertainty and roughness of the way, which it was almost impossible to find in the heavy gloom. Sometimes she fell down upon a jagged stone, and rose with the blood streaming from her bruised knee; sometimes she fell into a great bush of thorns, which tore both hands and face; but thinking not of her own pain, she rapidly rose again, and hurried on. She had already filled the bucket three times at the spring, fortunately guided to it by the noise of the stream rippling over the stones, and three times she had fallen and spilled the cool water, but she would not relinquish her attempt. She would not despair.Again she filled her bucket, and with the greatest efforts, creeping forward, feeling her way both with her hands and feet, she at last reached the cave with a sufficient supply of the precious fluid. She softly approached the old man, who was still lying in the same situation in which she had left him; she bathed his temples with the cool spring-water, but as this did not seem to produce the desired effect, she sprinkled his whole face with the fresh drops, and tried to make him swallow some,—but it was all in vain! She waited for a few moments; then she wet the handkerchief bound round his wounded head; again she bathed his temples, and hope now began at last to revive for Molly. After she had almost despaired of ever seeing him restored to life, he opened his firmly closed lips, and a light sigh breathed through them. The pallor of death vanished by slow degrees from his face; regular breathings heaved lightly through his breast, and a healthful and necessary sleep now seized upon all his senses. After Molly had gazed upon him attentively for a long time, and had thoroughly convinced herselfthat the crisis of danger was past, exhausted by the physical exertions and mental agonies of the trying night, she, too, fell into a deep slumber. Stretched upon the hard ground, with her gentle head resting upon its pillow of stone, her wearied eyelids closed, and she softly floated into the lovely land of dreams.
It was broad daylight when Molly awoke. From the land of light, of lovely fantasies and sunny hopes, of happy visions, she returned to the sad world of reality; and a single glance round the cavern was sufficient to bring before her memory all the exciting occurrences of the night just past. The wounded man was still asleep, and she was very glad that it should be so; she would have given a great deal to have been certain that his sleep would last until the return of her father, whose arrival she most ardently longed for.
Kitty had been awake for a long time, had been frightened at not finding her sister at her side, as she was accustomed to do, had several times called her name lightly, but, receiving no answer, tried to calm herself withthe thought that her sister had wakened before her, and had gone to the spring to bring water to prepare their simple meal. But hearing now the tread of light footsteps, she joyfully stretched out both arms to greet the coming one.
"It is you, Molly, I know," she cried with a blissful certainty of tone. "My Molly, my only, my good sister!" said she caressingly to Molly; and the child whom she had nurtured as tenderly as the truest mother could have done pressed her closely to her heart, and covered her with the innocent kisses of childlike love.
"Be quiet, very quiet, my little darling, for you have not forgotten that we gave shelter last night to a stranger, who requires sleep, and who may easily be awakened by your pleasant chattering. Your breakfast is not yet ready; but if you will sit here quite still and silent, you shall not have to wait for it long."
"Never mind the breakfast," said the child; "indeed I am not very hungry; and, unless you will eat it, we can keep the little piece ofoatmeal bread, so that our father may have a mouthful of something to taste when he returns, hungry and tired, home. Indeed I am not hungry, Molly," asserted Kitty once more, because she supposed, from her sister's silence, that she did not quite believe her words.
"If you would really make me very happy, sit down close beside me, and tell me something out of the Bible. Tell me about blind Tobit, whom the good God made see again as well as anybody else, because he was good, patient, and pious; or else about Joseph, whom the wicked brothers sold into Egypt, and yet God made him great and powerful, and he became the benefactor of thousands in a strange land."
Molly did as the little one requested. She took her upon her lap, and related to her all that she had asked for. Her words were simple, but they were colored by the warm, true, and pious feelings of the maiden. From time to time she rose and slipped to the side of the sick man, whom, to her delight, she always found asleep.
"Don't you think that father must soon behere?" asked Kitty, after several hours had thus passed away.
"O, I hope and wish for it so earnestly!" answered Molly.
"While chattering with you, I have quite forgotten to look out and see what kind of weather it is. It seems to me the storm has raved itself to rest. Remain here, darling, near the bed of the sick man, and if, by the lightest change in his breathing, you think that he is awaking, call my name loudly; I will be at the entrance, and will certainly hear you."
With these words, Molly placed Kitty at the feet of the sick stranger. "Do not forget you must sit still, Kitty, and be sure to call me if he moves," said Molly as she left the cave.
The dear, warm rays of the sun greeted her as she sought the open air. Only the lightest clouds, finer and softer than any web ever woven by human hands, flitted over the high arch of the heavens, for ever changing in form and play of varied light. The air was soft and mild, which it rarely is in the end ofautumn in Ireland, and upon the glittering surface of the wide sea millions of white and sparkling waves were dancing, like bright fairies and water-spirits. From the path which lay stretched at her feet, winding now up, now down the cliffs, in a hundred serpent-like turns, sounded, sometimes farther, sometimes nearer, the tones of a single full, clear, and manly voice. Molly listened attentively, and in her eyes, which reflected back so truly every thought of her pure soul, glittered a ray of hope.
She was not mistaken; the tones of the dear voice came ever more distinctly to her ears; she could even distinguish the words which fell from the lips of the unseen singer, Erin ma Vourneen, Erin go Bragh! The sounds were close at hand; only a projecting rock hid the coming form from her searching eyes; another second passed, and, with a loud cry of joy, she sank upon the breast of her father.
"Father! my dear, dear father!" she cried, almost breathlessly, as she again and again wound her arms around him.
O'Neil rapidly placed upon the ground a few cooking utensils which he had brought with him, and a little bag of meal, and then embraced his daughter with all the marks of the truest affection, asking her as many tender questions as if years, in place of days, had passed since they parted.
"But where is my Kitty?" said he, anxiously; "nothing has happened to my poor blind girl?"
"Nothing, dearest father, nothing! The little one is in the cave; I have just left her, to look out if I could see you coming."
"Let us go to her immediately!"
"Wait a moment! I am so glad that you are here already; I could scarcely have believed you would have returned so early. What unexpected good fortune has brought you back so soon, and so richly laden, to our arms?"
"I met with a farmer not far from here, tolerably well off, who required assistance to dig up his potatoes, and who promised me a little share in the harvest-grain if I would stay and help him. I found him more humane thanI had anticipated in the beginning, and when he saw that I labored with all my might to help him, he willingly granted me a day to visit my home, and gave me a share of my wages to bring with me. But now come to Kitty," said O'Neil, quickly, as he commenced to make his way to the cave.
"Dear father, yet another word! You will not find Kitty alone!"
"Who is with her, then?" asked O'Neil, astonished.
"An old man whom I found yesterday evening near this place, bleeding and wounded, who had probably lost his way upon the chase, and injured himself through some unlucky fall."
"Did you say he was an old man?"
"So he appears to be, for the thin hairs which scantily cover his head are white as snow; but whether they have whitened by the frost of years, or through the weight of cares and sorrows, I am not able to say."
"Have you no suspicion who the stranger may be?"
"Yes, father, I have more than a suspicion;I know it certainly. Like a flash of lightning, the recognition passed through my soul, when he, after a long fainting fit, opened his eyes and gazed upon me, although I have never seen him but once before, and that but for a flying moment, in the whole course of my life."
"And his name is—"
"I know it not."
"My child, you speak in riddles! You know the stranger; and yet you cannot tell me his name?"
"And yet I say nothing but the truth, father!" answered the anxious maiden.
"Lead me, then, rapidly to him, Molly! You fill me with curiosity, less through your mysterious words than through the strange anxiety that speaks in your excited voice, and in every line of your quivering face. You try in vain to conceal your uneasiness from me.—Can it possibly be," said he, as if suddenly overcome by some dim divination of the truth,—"Can it be that—Yet no; that would be indeed impossible!"
As he suddenly interrupted himself, hepushed the hair, with a restless motion, from his high and broad brow.
"What an idea! Only the vain creation of an excited fancy! And yet if it were he! The mere thought of such a possibility drives all the blood back from my throbbing heart!"
As he spoke, he covered his eyes with both his hands, as if to exclude some sight of horror, the view of which would blast his eyes for ever!
Molly softly approached him, and, throwing her arms tenderly round him, she murmured as lightly as if she feared the sound or meaning of her own words,—
"My dear father, even suppose it should be the man who drove us from our wretched hovel,—who took from us the last of our miserable possessions; suppose it should be the rich landlord, who, in addition to his barbarous conduct, insulted you with the most shameful, the most humiliating words; would you,—could you, render evil for evil? Could you have suffered him to remain exposed to all the horrors of the storm which raged so pitilessly yesterday, wounded and dying; andwould you have refused him your aid? O my father, to whom I have always looked up almost as to one of the Holy Ones of heaven, whom in all the trying circumstances of life I have always seen pursue a course so noble, I am sure, very sure, if you had been here, you too would have offered him assistance; and your daughter, in sheltering the unfortunate old man, in doing everything to alleviate his condition which it was possible for her to do, has only fulfilled the divine lessons which you imprinted upon her heart; she was only striving to resemble you; for you have ever been her fairest, highest model, in the practise of every self-sacrificing virtue."
For the first time, Molly ventured to look up to the face of her agitated father. Pale, as if already frozen by the stroke of death, he leaned against the steep cliff. Motionless, as if becoming part of the stone itself, his staring eyes moved not in their strained sockets; his long, flaccid arms hung loosely down at his side; the spirit seemed about to leave his powerful body for ever!
"Father!" shrieked Molly, in a tone of utter despair.
At the same moment, the soft, sweet voice of a child sounded from the cave,—"Molly! my Molly!"
"Father!" again repeated Molly, "father! for the love of God, speak! Speak only one word to your anxious child! Do you hear Kitty call me? The wounded man is awake; wemustsee him!"
O'Neil sank, with a spasmodic movement, upon his knees; his soul seemed to be engaged in a fearful struggle, for the large, cold drops of sweat covered his broad brow; he shuddered and quivered, as if convulsed by some dreadful spasm of agonizing pain.
"O thou pure Virgin of heaven, thou holy Mother of the Son of God!" he prayed, with a loud voice and uplifted hands, "have mercy upon me! By the bitter pain which pierced thine own tender soul, when thou wert standing under the dreadful cross, on which they crucified thy Holy Son; by all the tears of agony which thou must have shed in witnessing his unmitigated torments, have mercy upon me! Forsake me not! Leave me not to myself, in this wild struggle of my soul!O Merciful Jesus, who died to redeem thy enemies, give me the power to forgive the man whose fell malice deprived my own father of his little all; who has wounded, in the deepest manner, the holiest feelings of my heart, and who was the cause of the early and painful death of the being dearer to me far than my own life,—the beloved wife of my soul! O, enable me not only to forgive, but also to forget, all the misery this man has brought upon me!"
The words ceased to sound from the agitated soul of O'Neil; but it was evident he still prayed, for his lips were quivering with the holy thoughts. Tears glittered in his upraised eyes, and, as if he would stifle all the indignant emotions of anger and revenge which surged through the depths of his tortured being, he pressed his hand closely against his heart, whose wild beatings were distinctly heard by poor Molly. But it was now evident that he was gradually becoming more tranquil. Molly knelt close beside him; her head rested upon his shoulder; her ardent prayers were united with his, for she now forthe first time fully understood the circumstances in which she had placed him. It was the stern and cruel father of her mother whom she had brought into the cave; whom no entreaties would induce to recall the dreadful curse which he had pronounced upon the innocent head of his only child, and which, like a blighting worm in the heart of the summer rose, had fed upon her tender life, and, after a life of hopeless anguish, laid her in an early grave.