that night the children's young mother went on her journey. the summons for her to go came unexpectedly, as it often does in the end. she had not even time to say good-by to the children, nor to her husband, only just a brief moment to look, with startled eyes, at the wonderful face of the angel who had come to fetch her, and then with a smile of bliss to let him clasp her in his arms and feel his strong wings round her, and then she was away, beyond the lovely house and the beautiful garden, and the children sleeping quietly in their beds, and the husband who was slumbering by her side—beyond the tall trees and the peaks of the highest mountains, beyond the stars themselves, until finally she entered the portals of a home that is everlasting, and found herself in a land where the flowers do not fade.
in the morning the children were told that their mother was dead. they all cried, and everyone thought it dreadfully sad, except iris, who knew better. it was fortune who brought in the news to the children—they had just gone into the day-nursery at the time.
fortune was a stern woman, somewhat over fifty years of age. she was american by birth, and had lived with mrs. delaney since iris was born. mrs. delaney was also american, which may have ac
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counted for some of her bright fancies, and quiet, yet sweet and quick ways. fortune was very fond of the children after her fashion, which was, however, as a rule, somewhat severe and exacting. but to-day, in her bitter grief, she sank down on the nearest chair, and allowed them all to crowd round her, and cried bitterly, and took little orion in her arms and kissed him and petted him, and begged of each child to forgive her for ever having been cross or disagreeable, and promised, as well and as heartily as she could, never to transgress again in that manner as long as she lived.
while the others were sobbing and crying round fortune, iris stood silent.
"where is father?" she said at last, in a very quiet but determined voice.
fortune glanced round at the grave little girl in some wonder.
"miss iris," she said, "you are not even crying."
"what do tears matter?" answered iris. "please, fortune, where is father? i should like to go to him."
"he is locked up in his study, darling, and could not possibly see you nor anyone else. he is quite stunned, master is, and no wonder. you cannot go to him at present, miss iris."
iris did not say another word, but she looked more grave and more thoughtful than ever. after a long pause she sat down in her own little chair near the open window. it was a very lovely day, just as beautiful as the one which had preceded it. as the child sat by the window, and the soft, sweet breeze fanned her pale cheeks, an indescribable longing came over her. no one was particularly noticing her. she crept softly out of the room, ran down some passages, and
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at last found herself once more mounting the turret stairs to the tower. a moment later she had entered the octagon room where she and her mother had talked together on the previous day. the windows were wide open, the pretty room looked just as usual, but mother's sofa was vacant. iris went straight over to one of the open windows, knelt down, and put her little elbows on the ledge.
"yes, mother," she said, speaking aloud and looking full up at the bright blue sky, "i promise you. i promised you yesterday, but i make a fresh, very, very solemn promise to-day. yes, i will be a mother to the others; i will try never to think of myself; i will remember, mother darling, exactly what you want me to do. i will try to be beautiful, to be a little messenger of the gods, as you sometimes said i might be, and to be like the rainbow, full of hope. and i will try to help apollo to be the most beautiful and the bravest boy in the world; and, mother, i will do my best to help diana to be strong and bright and full of courage; and i will do what i can for orion—he must be grand like a giant, so that he may live up to the wonderful name you have given him. mother, it will be very hard, but i promise, i promise with all my might, to do everything you want me to do. i will act just as if you were there and could see, mother, and i will always remember that it is beautiful for you to have gone away, for while you were here you had so much pain and so much illness. i won't fret, mother; no, i won't fret—i promise to be a mother to the others, and there won't be any time to fret."
no tears came to iris' bright eyes, but her little thin face grew paler and paler. presently she left the window and went slowly downstairs again.
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fortune had now left the other children to themselves. they were scattered about the bright day nursery, looking miserable, though they could scarcely tell why.
"i don't believe a bit that mother is never coming back," said orion, in a stout, determined voice.
he was a very handsome little fellow, strongly made—he had great big black eyes like his father's. he was standing now with his noah's ark in his hand.
"it is unfeeling of you to want to play with your noah's ark to-day, orion," said apollo. "now, do you think i would go into my laboratory and try to make a thermometer?"
"well, at least," said diana, speaking with a sort of jerk, and her small face turning crimson, "whatever happens, the animals must be fed."
"of course they must, diana," said iris, coming forward, "and, apollo, there is not the least harm in our going into the garden, and i don't think there is any harm in orion playing with his noah's ark. come, children; come with me. we will feed all the pets and then go into the arbor, and, if you like, i will tell you stories."
"what sort of stories?" asked diana, in quite a cheerful voice. she trotted up to her sister, and gave her her hand as she spoke. she also was a finely made child, not unlike her name.
"i 'gree with orion," she said. "i'm quite certain sure that mother is coming back 'fore long. fortune did talk nonsense. she said, iris—do you know what she said?—she said that in the middle of the night, just when it was black dark, you know, a white angel came into the room and took mother in his arms and
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flew up to the sky with her. you don't believe that; do you, iris?"
"yes, i do, diana," answered iris. "but i will tell you more about it in the arbor. come, apollo; mother would not like us to stay in the house just because she has gone away to the angels. mother never was the least little bit selfish. come into the garden."
the three forlorn-looking little children were much comforted by iris' brave words. they dried their eyes, and diana ran into the night nursery to fetch their hats. they then ran downstairs without anyone specially noticing them, passed through the great entrance hall, and out on to the wide gravel sweep, which led by a side walk into the lovely garden.
iris held diana by one hand and orion by the other, and apollo ran on in front.
"now, then," said iris, when they had reached the garden, "we must begin by feeding all the pets."
"there are an awful lot of them," said diana, in quite a cheerful voice; "and don't you remember, iris, the poor innocent was not buried yesterday?"
iris could not help giving a little shiver.
"no more it was," she said, in a low tone. "it must have quite a private funeral. please get some dock leaves, apollo."
"yes," answered apollo.
he ran off, returning with a bunch in a moment or two.
"take them into the dead-house," said iris, "and sew them up and put the poor innocent inside, and then take your spade and dig a hole in the cemetery. we can't have a public funeral. i—i don't feel up to it," she added, her lips trembling for the first time.
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diana nestled close up to iris.
"you need not look sad, iris," she said; "there's no cause, is there? i don't believe that story 'bout mother, and if it is not true there'll be nothing wrong in my laughing, will there?"
"you may laugh if you like, darling," answered iris.
they all entered the arbor now, and iris seated herself in the little chair which mother had seen father make, and round which the beautiful flowers of the iris had been carved.
"laugh, di," she said again; "i know mother won't mind."
for a full moment diana stood silent, staring at her sister; then her big black eyes, which had been full of the deepest gloom, brightened. a butterfly passed the entrance to the summer-house, and diana flew after it, chasing it with a loud shout and a gay, hearty fit of laughter.
apollo came back with the stray cat, whose name was "trust," in his arms.
"she looks miserable, poor thing," he said. "i don't believe she has had anything to eat to-day. she must have her breakfast, as usual; must she not, iris?"
"yes; we must feed all the pets," said iris, making a great effort to brighten up. "let us go regularly to work, all of us. apollo, will you take the birds? you may as well clean out their cages—they are sure to want it. i will collect flies for the green frogs, and orion, you may pick mulberry leaves for the silk-worms."
for the next hour the children were busily employed. no one missed them in the house. the house was full of shade, but the garden, although
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mother had left it forever, was quite bright; the sun shone as brilliantly as it did every other day; a great many fresh flowers had come out; there was a very sweet smell from the opening roses, and in especial the scotch roses, white and red, made a waft of delicious perfume as the children ran up and down.
"i'm awfully hungry," said diana suddenly.
"but we won't go into the house for lunch to-day," said iris. "let us have a fruit lunch—i think mother would like us to have a fruit lunch just for to-day. please, apollo, go into the other garden and pick some of the ripest strawberries. there were a great many ripe yesterday, and there are sure to be more to-day. bring a big leaf full, and we can eat them in the summer-house."
apollo ran off at once. he brought back a good large leaf of strawberries, and iris divided them into four portions. diana and orion, seated on their little chairs, ate theirs with much gusto, and just as happily as if mother had not gone away; but as to iris, notwithstanding her brave words and her determination not to think of herself, the strawberries tasted like wood in her mouth. there was also a great lump in her throat, and a feeling of depression was making itself felt more and more, moment by moment.
apollo sat down beside his sister, and glanced from time to time into her face.
"i cannot think why i don't really care for the strawberries to-day," he said suddenly. "i—" his lips trembled. "iris," he said, gazing harder than ever at his sister, "you have got such a queer look on your face.
"don't notice it, please, apollo," answered iris.
"i wish you would cry," said the boy. "when
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fortune came in and told us the—the dreadful news, we all cried and we kissed her, and she cried and she said she was sorry she had ever been unkind to us; but i remember, iris, you did not shed one tear, and you—you always seemed to love mother the best of us all."
"and i love her still the best," said iris, in a soft voice; "but, apollo, i have something else to do." and then she added, lowering her tones, "you know, i can't be sorry about mother herself. i can only be glad about her."
"glad about mother! glad that she is dead!" said the boy.
"oh, i don't think about that part," said iris. "she is not dead—not really. she is only away up above the stars and the blue sky, and she will never have any more suffering, and she will always be as happy as happy can be, and sometime or other, apollo, i think she will be able to come back; and, if she can, i am sure she will. yes, i am quite sure she will."
"if she comes back we shall see her," said apollo; "but she can't come back, iris. dead people can't come back."
"oh, please, don't call her that," said iris, with a note of great pain in her voice.
"but fortune says that mother is dead, just like anybody else, and in a few days she will be put into the ground. oh, iris! i am frightened when i think of it. mother was so lovely, and to think of their putting her into the ground in a box just like—like we put the poor innocent and the other creatures, and if that is the case she can never come back—never, never, never!"
the little boy buried his black head of curling hair
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on his sister's knee, and gave vent to a great burst of tears.
"but it is not true, apollo," said iris. "i mean in one way it is not true—i can't explain it, but i know. let us forget all the dark, dreadful part—let us think of her, the real mother, the mother that looked at us out of her beautiful eyes; she is not dead, she has only gone away, and she wants us all to be good, so that we may join her some day. she called me after the rainbow, and after the messenger of the gods; and you, apollo, after the bravest and the most beautiful boy that was supposed ever to live; and diana, too, was called after a great greek goddess; and orion after the most lovely star in all the world. oh, surely we four little children ought to try to be great, and good, and brave, if we are ever to meet our mother again!"
"well, it is all very puzzling," said apollo, "and i can't understand things the way you can, iris, and i have an awful ache in my throat. i am hungry, and yet i am not hungry. i love strawberries as a rule, but i hate them to-day. if only father would come and talk to us it would not be quite so bad; but fortune said we were not to go to him, that he was shut up in his study, and that he was very unhappy. she said that he felt it all dreadfully about mother."
"iris," said diana's voice at that moment, "we are not surely to have any lessons to-day?"
she had come to the door of the summer-house, and was looking in.
"lessons?" said iris. she put up her hand to her forehead in a dazed manner.
"yes; do be quick and say. miss stevenson is coming down the garden path. i do think that on
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the very day when mother has gone away it would be hard if we were to have lessons; and if what you say is true, iris, and mother is happy, why, it does not seem fair; does it? we ought to have a whole holiday to-day, ought we not? just as if it was a birthday, you know."
"i think so too," said orion, with a shout. "i don't think we need be bothered with old stevie to-day." he raised his voice, and ran to meet her. "you are not to give us any lessons to-day, stevie," he said. "it is a holiday, a great, big holiday—it is a sort of birthday. we were all eating strawberries, for iris said we were not to go back to the house."
"oh, my poor, dear, little boy!" said miss stevenson. she was a kind-hearted, although old-fashioned, governess. she bent down now and kissed orion, and tried to take one of his very dirty little hands in hers.
"my dear little children—" she began again.
"please, miss stevenson, don't pity us," said iris.
miss stevenson started.
"my dear iris," she said, "you don't realize what it means."
"i do," answered iris stoutly.
"and i know what iris means," said apollo; "i know quite well. i feel miserable; i have got a pain in my throat, and i cannot eat my strawberries; but iris says we ought not fret, for mother is much better off."
"then, if mother is much better off, we ought to have a holiday, same as if it was a birthday; ought we not, miss stevenson?" said diana, puckering up her face and looking, with her keen black eyes, full at her governess.
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"you poor little innocents, what is to become of you all?" said miss stevenson.
she entered the summer-house as she spoke, sank down on the nearest chair, and burst into tears. the four children surrounded her. they none of them felt inclined to cry at that moment. orion, after staring at her for some little time, gave her a sharp little tap on her arm.
"what are you crying about?" he said. "don't you think you are rather stupid?"
"you poor innocents!" said miss stevenson.
"please don't call us that," said diana; "that is our name for the worms. worms can't see, you know, and they are not to blame for being only worms, and sometimes they get trodden on; and iris thought we might call them innocents, and we have always done so since she gave us leave; but we would rather not be called by quite the same name."
miss stevenson hastily dried her eyes.
"you certainly are the most extraordinary little creatures," she said. "don't you feel anything?"
"it would be horrid selfish to be sorry," said diana "iris says that mother is awfully happy now."
miss stevenson stared at the children as if they were bewitched.
"and we are not to have lessons, stevie," said orion; "that's settled, isn't it?"
"oh, my dear little child! i was not thinking of your lessons. it is your terrible—your terrible loss that fills my mind; that and your want of understanding. iris, you are ten years old; i am surprised at you."
iris stood, looking very grave and silent, a step or two away.
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"please, miss stevenson," she said, after a long pause, "don't try to understand us, for i am afraid it would be of no use. mother talked to me yesterday, and i know quite what to do. mother asked me to be a mother to the others, so i have no time to cry, nor to think of myself at all. if you will give us a holiday to-day, will you please go away and let us stay together, for i think i can manage the others if i am all alone with them?"
miss stevenson rose hastily.
"i thought you would all have been overwhelmed," she said. "i thought if ever children loved their mother you four did. oh! how stunned i feel! yes, i will certainly go—i don't profess to understand any of you."
