"Oh, my mother!" exclaimed I, burying my face again in the
grass of the grave - "Oh, that I were once more by your side; sleeping,
never to wake again, on the cares and troubles of this world!"
I am not naturally of a morbid temperament, and the violence of my
emotion gradually exhausted itself. It was a hearty, honest, natural
discharge of griefs which had been slowly accumulating, and gave me
wonderful relief. I rose from the grave as if I had been offering up a
sacrifice, and I felt as if that sacrifice had been accepted.
I sat down again on the grass, and plucked, one by one, the weeds from
her grave; the tears trickled more slowly down my cheeks, and ceased to
be bitter. It was a comfort to think that she had died before sorrow
and poverty came upon her child, and that all his great expectations
were blasted.
I leaned my cheek upon my hand and looked upon the landscape. Its quiet
beauty soothed me. The whistle of a peasant from an adjoining field
came cheerily to my ear. I seemed to respire hope and comfort with the
free air that whispered through the leaves and played lightly with my
hair, and dried the tears upon my cheek.
