The Dead Man Was Alive Again; Yet The Shock
To Me Was Just As Great And The Effect As Lasting As If He Had Been
Truly Dead.
Another instance which will bring me down to the end of my sixth year
and the conclusion of this sad chapter.
At this time we had a girl in
the house, whose sweet face is one of a little group of half a dozen
which I remember most vividly. She was a niece of our shepherd's wife,
an Argentine woman married to an Englishman, and came to us to look
after the smaller children. She was nineteen years old, a pale, slim,
pretty girl, with large dark eyes and abundant black hair. Margarita
had the sweetest smile imaginable, the softest voice and gentlest
manner, and was so much loved by everybody in the house that she was
like one of the family. Unhappily she was consumptive, and after a few
months had to be sent back to her aunt. Their little place was only
half a mile or so from the house, and every day my mother visited her,
doing all that was possible with such skill and remedies as she
possessed to give her ease, and providing her with delicacies. The
girl did not want a priest to visit her and prepare her for death; she
worshipped her mistress, and wished to be of the same faith, and in
the end she died a pervert or convert, according to this or that
person's point of view.
The day after her death we children were taken to see our beloved
Margarita for the last time; but when we arrived at the door, and the
others following my mother went in, I alone hung back. They came out
and tried to persuade me to enter, even to pull me in, and described
her appearance to excite my curiosity. She was lying all in white,
with her black hair combed out and loose, on her white bed, with our
flowers on her breast and at her sides, and looked very, very
beautiful. It was all in vain. To look on Margarita dead was more than
I could bear. I was told that only her body of clay was dead - the
beautiful body we had come to say good bye to; that her soul - she
herself, our loved Margarita - was alive and happy, far, far happier
than any person could ever be on this earth; that when her end was
near she had smiled very sweetly, and assured them that all fear of
death had left her - that God was taking her to Himself. Even this was
not enough to make me face the awful sight of Margarita dead; the very
thought of it was an intolerable weight on my heart; but it was not
grief that gave me this sensation, much as I grieved; it was solely my
fear of death.
CHAPTER IV
THE PLANTATION
Living with trees - Winter violets - The house is made habitable - Red
willow - Scissor-tail and carrion-hawk - Lombardy poplars-Black acacia -
Other trees - The foss or moat - Rats - A trial of strength with an
armadillo - Opossums living with a snake - Alfalfa field and butterflies
- Cane brake - -Weeds and fennel - Peach trees in blossom - Paroquets -
Singing of a field finch - Concert-singing in birds - Old John - Cow-
birds' singing - Arrival of summer migrants.
I remember - better than any orchard, grove, or wood I have ever
entered or seen, do I remember that shady oasis of trees at my new
home on the illimitable grassy plain. Up till now I had never lived
with trees excepting those twenty-five I have told about and that
other one which was called _el arbol_ because it was the only tree of
its kind in all the land. Here there were hundreds, thousands of
trees, and to my childish unaccustomed eyes it was like a great
unexplored forest. There were no pines, firs, nor eucalyptus (unknown
in the country then), nor evergreens of any kind; the trees being all
deciduous were leafless now in mid-winter, but even so it was to me a
wonderful experience to be among them, to feel and smell their rough
moist bark stained green with moss, and to look up at the blue sky
through the network of interlacing twigs. And spring with foliage and
blossom would be with us by and by, in a month or two; even now in
midwinter there was a foretaste of it, and it came to us first as a
delicious fragrance in the air at one spot beside a row of old
Lombardy poplars - an odour that to the child is like wine that maketh
the heart glad to the adult. Here at the roots of the poplars there
was a bed or carpet of round leaves which we knew well, and putting
the clusters apart with our hands, lo! there were the violets already
open - the dim, purple-blue, hidden violets, the earliest, sweetest, of
all flowers the most loved by children in that land, and doubtless in
many other lands.
There was more than time enough for us small children to feast on
violets and run wild in our forest; since for several weeks we were
encouraged to live out of doors as far away as we could keep from the
house where we were not wanted. For just then great alterations were
being made to render it habitable: new rooms were being added on to
the old building, wooden flooring laid over the old bricks and tiles,
and the half-rotten thatch, a haunt of rats and the home of centipedes
and of many other hybernating creeping things, was being stripped off
to be replaced by a clean healthy wooden roof. For me it was no
hardship to be sent away to make my playground in that wooded
wonderland. The trees, both fruit and shade, were of many kinds, and
belonged to two widely-separated periods. The first were the old trees
planted by some tree-loving owner a century or more before our time,
and the second the others which had been put in a generation or two
later to fill up some gaps and vacant places and for the sake of a
greater variety.
Enter page number
PreviousNext
Page 14 of 96
Words from 14068 to 15114
of 98444