CHAPTER VIII. A Bitter Cry The next few days were so full of a new excitement for Violet that she scarcely had time to think of the little hunchback or of the shock her feelings had received from Fritz's words. All day long she sat in the window absorbed in watching what was going on in the street beneath. Regiments of soldiers were constantly marching past, bands were playing, and flags flying from many of the opposite windows. Great forage carts toiled up the hill driven by soldiers, and oolans were forever dashing up and down the street on their great tall horses so that the points of their lances often seemed to come up to the very window at which she sat. But Violet was not afraid of them, for even in their haste they gave her often a nod as they went by. Many of the oolans were friends of her fathers, and though she scarcely recognized some of them in their square caps they knew her. And not a few, as they rode quickly past and saw the white face in the window, felt a shiver at their heart as they asked themselves the question, if John goes to the war what is to happen to the child? But as yet the question was not decided and though Violet had heard through Kate some talk of the war, her heart lay still in an unsuspecting calm. Once, as she saw a little child crying in the street below and holding on to its father's long military coat in an anguish of grief, she lifted her head suddenly and said to her father who was busy making one of the wheels for her new carriage, Thou are not a soldier, father. No, darling, no, not at this moment. Thou wasst a soldier once, though, long ago, before Violet was born. Is it not so? Fritz has told me Thou wert. Yes, a long time ago. And wert Thou ever in a battle, father? Yes, my sweetest treasure in several. But we will not talk of battles. Thou hast not asked me all to-day about the carriage. I have got the springs home this morning from the blacksmith, and it will be so light when it is finished that even Fritz could draw the about in it. How lovely to go up and down the street with Fritz as Ella does, ever so fast down the hill and ever so slow up. I am not so heavy as Ella, am I, father? No, my poor little daughter, I am afraid not. And Thou, father, some day, Thou will take me in my carriage to the hill, and we will gather nuts and bring them home in my carriage, and every one will wonder when they see no one in the window. They will look up and they will say, Where is little Violet? And they will never think that she has gone far, far away to that hill which is so very far off. Violet's face was radiant, her eyes had turned to that deep purple hue which seemed always to match the shadows of her dress, and her cheeks had crimsoned with the thought of this new and wonderful life which was soon to be hers. Poor John put down his wheel and went over to his favorite seat on the broad sill beside her. He had purposely set her to talk on this theme, and now she was breaking his heart with her innocent raptures. I am afraid father is a great idler, he said putting his head down very softly against her shoulder. I ought to be downstairs in my workshop now, instead of chattering nonsense to the all day. But we were not talking nonsense, were we, father? It is quite true about the carriage, is it not? It is not a fairytale, father. A fairytale? Fritz says, she paused. What does Fritz say? John asked the question somewhat dreamily. He had been gazing at her earnestly for some minutes, and now he kissed her twice passionately, as if without any apparent reason.  He said with almost a sob in his throat. And thou must try and grow strong for father's sake. Violet looked up a little shyly and put her arms round his neck. And thou art the best father in all the world. Dear, dear father! The old policeman walking by in the street saw the little maiden with her arms so tightly clasped round her father's neck, and he said to himself with a groan, Poor maiden, she knows it all now, and she would feign hold him back if she could. And he walked on. But Violet did not know it all, nor for many days did the truth dawn upon her. It fell to Fritz's lot, as usual, to be the one to proclaim the tidings. It was one evening about a month after war had been proclaimed. It had been a very hot day, and Violet was tired and weak and not inclined to play or talk. She was leaning back against her pillows looking out at the pigeons, which always came at this hour of a summer's afternoon to sit and preen their feathers on the lantern chair which hung high up across the street. She knew these pigeons quite well. She had given them all names. She placed crumbs for them every day on the windowsill beside her chair, and she delighted to see their fussy ways, twirling round and cooing angrily, and trying to push each other off the sill so as to secure the larger share of the food. But today she only watched them languidly. For the last three days neither Fritz nor Ella had called in to play with her. She had seen them in the street hanging on to the backs of the forage wagons, and Fritz had once appeared in the window opposite with Ella's doll speared at the end of a lance, but seeing Violet beckoning to him to come across, he had shaken his head lugubriously and disappeared from her sight. So Violet, whose back was aching and whose little heart sank easily under any depressing influence, was alternately watching her father putting some finishing touches to the hood of her new carriage, and gazing out languidly at the pigeons and the storks on the red roofs, and the jack-down Fritz's window opposite, hopping everlastingly up and down from its perch, and screaming out some words which the baker's boy had taught it with much trouble to say. Beyond the roofs and between the fredded spire of the church she saw also the hill, looking so green and fresh in the golden evening air, and above it there was a pale green sky, flecked with amber clouds and little bars of red. Violet sighed heavily, and John looked up from his work. What ails my treasure! Nothing, Father, only I am so, so tired. And Fritz and Ella, they have not come to see me for so many days. Ah! I will call over there presently, and send them across to thee. I have but one or two nails to put in this hood, and then thy carriage will be finished. That is good, is it not? Delightful cried Violet, raising herself up in her chair to see better the last finishing touches put to her new possession. But as she did so her eyes fell for a moment on the pavement opposite, where a soldier was just stopping at the Adler's door with a bundle of papers in his hand, surrounded and followed by a large and excited crowd. What is it? Father, come here. There is such a fuss in the street. A soldier has gone in at the Adler's house, and all the people are standing at their door, and one woman is crying. I am afraid a great many women and children will cry before this evening is over, said her father very gravely as he rose and went over to the window. Why, father? Because their husbands and fathers will have to go away from them to the war and leave them. Yes, it is just as I thought. It is the orderly corporal leaving the names at the different houses. Whose turn will it be next? But Fritz's father cannot be sent to the war. He is not a soldier, father. We must all be soldiers, little one, when a war comes, and we are called out to fight. But thou, father, art not a soldier. Thou saidest so to me thyself the other day. Father, dear father, turn round thy face to me. Tell Violet that thou wilt never be a soldier. I cannot tell Violet what she asks me, said John slowly, turning his face and speaking in a strained, thick voice. If the king wants me to fight for God and the fatherland, of course I must go. But he does not want thee. She has not sent for thee. Not yet, he said, sitting down beside his little girl and lifting up one of her hands tenderly. But he may want me. And if he does, I must go. Must I not, Violet? Father could not stay at home if his king called him. A brave soldier is always ready to fight for his country. But thou art not a soldier, father. The king has not called. And if he were to call for thee, I would not let thee go. For if father goes away to the war and leaves Violet all alone, she must die.   Violet sobbed and rocked herself to and fro in her chair. There, there, my heart, thou must not say such things. The corporal has not called yet with father's name. Keep still, my lamb, and cease crying. Fritz will be here soon, and thou will see how brave he is. I will go over and call him, cried John, rising precipitately. The corporal had come out of the Adler's house and was crossing over towards their own doorway. Father, father, stay, cried Violet. I would rather have thee to sit with me than Fritz. She caught at his coat. Come back to me. Come back, come back. And he was already closing the door after him, and in a moment more she heard his footsteps hurrying down the stairs.  She looked up at the window's opposite, but he was not there either.  The crowd was now gathered exactly under their own window and Violet's heart beat so fast that at last she cried out in her misery and Kate opening the door came in. Kate, Kate, where is Father? She cried out anxiously. Father is busy talking to the corporal downstairs. He cannot come up just yet. The corporal screamed Violet passionately. He is not coming to call my father to the war. Go down, Kate, to the door and tell him he must not call him away. Father could not go to the war and leave me all alone. No, no, to be sure not, said Kate soothingly. Men with children have no business to go off fighting. I will tell him so when he comes up and—ah, here comes Master Fritz tearing across the street like a madman and Miss Ella too. At the door screamed Violet, I do not want to see Fritz. I do not want to see Ella. I want only Father, only Father to come back. But before Kate's stiff bones could bear her across the room the door flew open and the children rushed in. Fritz's cheeks were purple, his eyes were red, his blue striped flowers was damp with tears. Ella tumbled in after him, her face also streaked and smeared from crying and her pinafore hopelessly crumpled. As thou heard the news, Violet, screamed Fritz excitedly, the reserve has been called out and Father is to go to the war. What is the reserve? Oh, all the soldiers who have been out fighting before long ago. My father was in lots of battles before, and so was yours. My father is not in the reserve, cried Violet, leaning forward eagerly. Yes, of course he is. I saw the corporal put the same blue paper into his hand downstairs as he did into Father's a few minutes ago. And he is to go away to the war? Yes. When? The day after tomorrow. Then such a cry of bitter anguish burst from Violet's lips that Fritz and Ella absolutely stood aghast with terror. She struggled wildly to get free from her chair and to push the little table away which held her a close prisoner. Let me out. Let me down, Fritz, Ella. I must find Father. Father, Father, Father! Till at last the bitter cry echoed through the room, the house and out into the street. Madam Adler opposite heard it and thrust her fingers into her ears. The policeman walking past covered his eyes suddenly with his gloved hands, and John, saying farewell to the corporal in the hall, heard it also. In a few moments he was up the stairs and held his darling close to his heart. Fritz and Ella speedily departed homewards, leaving the door wide open behind them. John rose and closed it, and he and Violet were left alone to their grief. End of Chapter 8 Chapter 9 of On Angel's Wings This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Recorded by Céline Majore. On Angel's Wings by Louisa Lilius Green. 9. Aunt Lizzie's Visit The next day an aunt of Violet's arrived from a distant town. She was a sister of John's wife and a wife herself, very young and very fair, and with a wonderful likeness to the poor dead mother. Her husband, who was many years older than herself, was amongst the militia and had not yet been called out, and at the cry from John's broken heart she came at once, leaving her own little ones behind her to remain a few days with Violet until the bitterness of the parting was over. On this day the little girl had made no effort to leave her bed. All the long mornings she had remained with her head buried in the pillows and with the sheet drawn over her head, deaf to all comfort or words of sympathy. For who could comfort her when the appalling fact remained unchanged that her father was going to leave her to go to the war and she would be left alone? In vain Fritz had stood by her bed and called to her. He had brought her a box of the most delicious sweetmeats a fair well present from the confectioner, for poor Madame Belal, like all the rest of the French residence in Nettlesheim, had had to break up her home since the war was declared and prepared to leave Germany at once, and now as her shop was being closed the children of the neighborhood were profiting by her good nature. To Violet she had sent a special gift of great beauty. A box of frosted silver and all within were sweetmeats of various colors, pale pink and green and white which shown glitteringly as if they had been sprinkled over with diamond dust. But no words of Fritz nor descriptions of the treasure he held in his hand could induce Violet to look up. Her head was buried in her pillows and no sound but smothered sobbing reached his ears. Once a little thin hand was stretched out for a moment through the sheets and grasped his gratefully and there was an effort to say something, but Fritz did not understand it, and having left the sweetmeat box on the table beside her bed he moved away dejectedly followed by Ella, who in endeavouring to walk out on her tiptoes had nearly fallen down on her face in the doorway. Once in the afternoon Violet started up and lifting herself painfully from the pillows flung the clothes from off her face. She had heard a step on the stairs and now she heard her father's voice calling to her. He was standing in the doorway as she looked up and all the bright colour rushed to her pale face and an exclamation of admiration and surprise burst quite unconsciously from her lips. Father, is it thou? Oh, how splendid! And splendid did he look this afternoon in his new uniform! A giant in height, in breadth, in strength with a fair open face, which could look stern enough at times, but now there was no sternness about it, only a searching eagerness to see if he might win one smile from his darling in the bed yonder. John had to take his helmet off to enter at the doorway, and now, as he stood by his little girl's bed, turning himself round with an assumed pride for her admiration he looked as he was, one of the very flower of the German army, ready to die for his king and fatherland, with a heart of steel to face the foe, and a heart of wax to be moulded by those tiny burning fingers in the bed into whatever shape or form she chose. Has the king seen thee, Father? She asked with a sob and a smile. Know, my child. Ah, he will be delighted. Thou art the finest soldier I ever saw. Thou thinkest so, my treasure. Yes, yes, the best soldier in all the army. She stretched out her arms lovingly, yearningly, and the best, the very best, the dearest father in all the world. John put down his helmet on the bed. His spurs clattered, his sword clanked, and he stooped over it. But she heard nothing, only the whisper in her ear. Violet, my heart's treasure, how can I go away and leave thee? Later on in the evening, when he had gone out to make some final arrangements and to buy some last comfort for his little girl, and she had relapsed into her former state of speechless grief there came a tap at the door of her room and a voice which seemed to thrill through every fiber of her frame cried softly. Is Violet awake? May Aunt Lizzie come in? Violet once more flung down the clothes and made a violet effort to rise up quickly. Her cheeks flamed to a carmine red, her eyes glowed in the twilight, and there was something in their expression which made her aunt pause on the threshold and place her hand suddenly upon her heart. Our little girlie, all alone, she said in the same sweet low voice, Aunt Lizzie has come at a good time to sit and comfort thee. Violet had not seen her Aunt Lizzie for two long years, but now at this crisis of her young life when her heart was hungering for a face which she could never see again and her spirit was crying out for her lost mother to comfort her, Aunt Lizzie had come in at the door with the same gentle voice, the same sweet blue eyes and waving golden hair and had laid just such a soft cheek against her own. All Violet's reserve gave way at once and she turned with a sudden movement of overpowering relief and flung her arms around Aunt Lizzie's neck. Aunt Lizzie, Aunt Lizzie, dost thou know, hast thou heard? My father! Here she turned her head in upon her aunt's breast. She could not finish the sentence. Only a storm of sobs completed it. Yes, yes, I know it all. Thy father has to go away to the war. It is terrible. I was thinking of thee all the way in the train and of all the other poor little children in Edelsoyme who must say goodbye to Morrow to their fathers. But Aunt Lizzie, Violet will be so lonely, so quite alone. Yes. Thy father is so wonderfully good and so kind, thou wilt miss him more than most children. I know that well.  Only Kate and Kate never knows what Violet says. Ah, well, Aunt Lizzie must think of someone to come and stay with Violet. Our little darling must not be left alone. We will talk to father this evening. And now Violet must dry her eyes. Aunt Lizzie has seen so many tears today that she feels quite sad. And besides, when father comes home we must not weep. Where did Aunt Lizzie see so many tears? asked Violet still sobbing. Oh, so many! Such red eyes and blistered faces at the railway station. It was at first almost impossible for Aunt Lizzie to find a seat. Only the Colonel interfered and said they must make a place for her. So many wives, with babies in their arms sobbing and stretching out their hands, and quite old women from the country, and little girls about thy size. Violet cannot go down to the station and see her father off to the war, can she, Aunt Lizzie? No, no. It would only make father sad and it would tire thee. Were there any poor little hunchbacks at the station at Edelsoim? But cried Aunt Lizzie with almost a start of horror. Sweetest treasure thou must not say such things.  Is it not so, my lovable one? Some hunchbacks have wings, said Violet with a sudden gasp and a swift upward glance at her aunt's face. God gives them wings. Yes, dearest child, and some day he will give thee wings too, and then Violet will fly away and be at rest.  Yes, said Violet with a sigh and a long, fluttering sob. No more tears. The poor little hunchback in the fairytale never cried once, not once, after God gave her wings. I read that in the book, underneath the picture, and I know it is true, although Fritz will not believe it, for I found the words in Mother's Bible. Yes, yes, it is quite true, said Aunt Lizzie softly. There will be no more sorrow nor trouble of any kind in heaven. Nothing to make us cry. No more fighting. No more wars. No more soldiers and having to say goodbye, added Violet sobbing. Aunt Lizzie, Aunt Lizzie, Violet cannot say goodbye to father. Ah, darling, it is hard, but thou must try to say it. And Aunt Lizzie pressed the little head close to her breast. Father is a soldier, and Violet must seek to be a soldier, too. Thou wilt be brave, sweetest child, for his sake wilt thou not. Father's heart is breaking at having to say farewell to his little girl, and yet thou seest, dearest one, how he strives for thy sake to be cheerful. I know a text about soldiers, Aunt Lizzie, said Violet almost in a whisper. What is it, my little girlie? Fight the good fight, but Aunt Lizzie, Violet is too sick to fight and her back aches so. Violet is one of Christ's own little soldiers, and when she is very tired, she must just lay her head on his breast, and he will fight for her all her battles, whatever they may be. Yes, that is like Mother's hymn that we used to say always at night. How sweet to rest on Jesus' breast! And then, when Mother used to lie down beside Violet on the bed and put her arm so closely around her, Violet used to say, How sweet to rest on Mother's breast! And there was no harm was there, Aunt Lizzie. None, none, replied the young Mother with an effort to keep back her own tears. Now lay thy head softly down on Aunt Lizzie's breast, and she will sing thee to sleep. As thou know what Kate said to Violet once, asked the little girl a smile spreading over all her face. No, my child, what was it? She said Violet would soon sleep on Mother's breast, and then Violet would have no more headaches. Is not that lovely, Aunt Lizzie? Lovely, she answered almost in a whisper. While they were talking thus, John came in. At first his face was somewhat white and stern. He seemed afraid to trust himself to glance towards the bed. When at last he did look across to the corner where Aunt Lizzie, who had taken off her hat and shawl, was sitting on the bed beside Violet, his face suddenly changed. A light, a look, came into it, a sudden flush passed over his handsome face, and he stretched out his hand with a hasty movement and a quick outburst of thanks. Lizzie, thou best of sisters, so thou hast come. I scarcely dared to hope it. It has been too good of thee to leave thy home, and of Henry too to spare thee. He kissed her affectionately and sat down on the edge of the bed where Violet lay partially supported by her aunt's arm. Oh, God, be thanked, my task is now comparatively light. He drew a long deep breath and tried to smile a happy smile as he gazed into his little girl's face and lifted one of her hands into his own. I have had such a busy afternoon, he continued, still searching into the large, wistful eyes opposite him for some ray of cheerfulness. I have finished Violet's carriage, and I have bought a lovely cushion for it and a rug to put over her feet, and Fritz put Ella into it, and found it was so light he could draw her up the steep hill from the church to the fountain without drawing breath. So now Violet can go out also every day and get some roses in her cheeks. Is that not so, my heart's angel?  And father is going to give Violet his canary to take care of for him, and such a grand cage as he has bought for him, all gold and silver and with beautiful green fountains. And Violet must feed him herself and see that he is never hungry or thirsty either, eh, my darling? Yes, father. And here is a desk father has got for thee. A real leather desk full of paper and envelopes and beautiful red sealing wax, and look here, my treasure, a seal with Violet on it. Is not that lovely?  And somewhere in the desk Violet will find, if she searches well for it, a little box with silver in it, bright silver money to buy stamps with. And when she wants more money in her box, she must ask Madam Mattler for it, and then she can always write letters to father and tell him all the news. Father will write to Violet? Of course, of course. And the ink-bottle thou hast not seen yet nor the pens and pencils, cried John with a sudden access of interest, for Violet's lips quivered ominously, and one large tear had already fallen with a splash upon the pink blotting paper.  We are all going to sit by the stove and have our supper. And father has a cake for thee which Madame Bellag has baked on purpose for us. Wait till Aunt Lizzie sees it. It is all sugar on the top. It was good of Madame Bellag and all her trouble to think of us. Was it not, Violet? Yes, yes, too good, she said softly. It did not take long to dress her. A couple of shawls fastened loosely around her and stockings drawn up over her feet were enough for the occasion, and when the coffee was ready the cake was uncovered in all its glory. Such a splendid cake as it was, all covered with creamy frosted white sugar, and on the top were letters made of pink confets, which formed these words, John and Violet, and underneath in smaller confets of the same color was added, of Vitozane, to meet again. Poor Violet, once her eyes fell on the pink letters it was with difficulty she could swallow any of the cake.  She drank her coffee eagerly so as to swallow down the tiny bit she had taken, and then John, watching her closely, saw it was no use to offer her any more. We must give some of this grand cake to Kate, he said presently. We cannot allow Aunt Lizzie to eat at all. And Fritz, too, and Ella, they must each have a slice. He took up the knife and began to carve the cake with some recklessness. Violet watched him intently as he cut a large piece for Kate than another for Fritz, and the knife was already buried in the frosted silver for Ella's slice when she suddenly stretched out her hand and cried out piteously, No, dear father, not there. Ah, leave that piece for me. Do not cut off those words. Violet loves them. John drew out the knife and laid it on the plate. Aunt Lizzie shall cut Ella a slice by and by. He said softly. Then drew his girl so close in to his side that Violet could feel the loud beating of his heart. After all the supper proved but a sorry meal, though Aunt Lizzie talked and laughed and told anecdotes about her children at home, some of which caught Violet's attention and drew forth questions and answers. But every now and then a deep unconscious sigh from John or a smothered sob from Violet would show that their minds had wandered far away from the little fair-haired children at Gutsberg. At last he got up and laid her down upon her bed. I must say good night now to my darling. He said wearily as he stretched his arms up into the air. Father is very tired and he must go down to the barracks presently. Not to stay. Not to sleep. Thou wilt not say good-bye to night, cried Violet. Dear father, not to night. Her appeal broke into one long pitiful wail. No, no, not to night. Oh, darling child, if Violet only knew how father's heart aches, she would not cry so. Try, sweetest darling, to be brave. Father will come back when he has reported himself to the captain and Aunt Lizzie will stay with thee while he is away. Violet ceased crying aloud and lying back on her pillows, resorted to her old device of drawing the bed close over her face. Aunt stooped down and kissed the little hand that grasped them so tightly, then saying a few words in a low voice to Aunt Lizzie he went out of the room. When he returned about two hours later Violet was asleep. Her aunt had sat by her bed and sunk to her in a low droning voice, little hymns and nursery songs familiar to her ears in the old mother-days until at last the sobbing ceased the hand which held the sheet gradually relaxed and the child slept. Poor John. It was a relief to him to find all so quiet in the room when he came up. He had the birdcage in his hand which he hung up on a peg in the center of the eight-sided alcove which formed the window and which jetted out some distance over the street. Then he drew a chair over into the alcove for Lizzie and they sat down in the gloaming to talk over Violet in what was to be done to ensure her happiness and comfort during the time he must be away at the war. It was a long talk and a sad one and to John sitting there in the moonlit window it seemed as if he were speaking in a dream to the poor little dead mother. For Aunt Lizzie listened with the same earnest sympathy and when she replied it was in the same low tones. When she spoke to of the poor sick child lying now so quietly asleep on the bed in the corner she used the very same expressions and endearing epithets of love which came back to poor John's ears like whispers from the grave. It was finally arranged between them that she was to remain with Violet for a few days after his departure so as to allow the first burst of childish grief to pass over under her loving and watchful care. Then Aunt Lizzie had hoped that it might have been possible to have moved the poor little invalid to Gutsberg where she could have devoted herself to her charge and she would have done so lovingly and faithfully. But John had already thought of this plan and had consulted over it with the physician, a kind and clever man who had known Violet from her birth and he had decided against the plan saying that any attempt to move the child from the room where she had lived all her life would be almost certainly attended with fatal consequences. The shock of a removal and the tearing up of the frail tendrils which held this little fading flower to life would cause it suddenly to wither away. And besides, the doctor added kindly, what should we all do here in Edelstein without our little Violet? Why, you might almost as well take down the clock out of the old church tower and tell us still to know the time of day as to take our Violet's face from the window and tell us all to live pure and patient lives. No, no, good man, leave us the child, and I for one will watch over her. So John had returned home with sudden tears in his eyes satisfied that the doctor was right. And Aunt Lizzie afterwards confirmed him regretfully in the same view, for she had said to Violet that afternoon when she was lying on the bed beside her, how would Violet like to leave Edelstein for a little while, just while Father is away and to return with Aunt Lizzie to Goodsburg? The little children at home would scream with joy to have Violet amongst them, and they would hold out their hands to welcome her. But the child had cried out almost in terror, No, no, no, do not take Violet to Goodsburg. She must watch for Father at the window. She must wait for him till he comes home. He will not be long away. And besides Aunt Lizzie, Violet could not leave her little mother. She is quite, quite close to Violet down there at the church, and sometimes Violet sends her flowers, and Fritz calls out quite loud. Mother, mother, Violet sends thee these flowers and her hearts love and never, never forgets thee. Fritz says it is all no use. She does not hear him calling out. But ol' Aunt Lizzie, Violet knows she does listen.  After this outburst from the child's heart, her Aunt did not seek to urge her point. To tear asunder such strong links of love would indeed be death to Violet, and the little aching loving heart already half in heaven must not be troubled further by any act of hers. So now, all thoughts of Goodsburg having been abandoned, it was a range that a little maid called Evelina who was at present in charge of Lizzie's children at Goodsburg should be engaged by John as nurse to Violet. She had been living in Lizzie's family for three years and had a pretty bright face, a gentle manner, and up to this time had, under Lizzie's motherly direction, taken excellent care of the little ones. She was the only person Lizzie knew whom she could recommend from personal experience, and she undertook to impress on the girl's mind that she must, during John's absence, devote herself entirely to the sick child and have no thought but for her comfort and happiness. One word more, Lizzie, said John in a low constrained voice as he bent his head down on the back of Violet's chair which stood empty in the moonlit window. If—if, dearest Lizzie, it should please God that I should not return, what then? What is to become of my poor child? God preserve us from such trouble, cried Lizzie, starting up suddenly for there was a movement in the corner. Hush! It will hear thee. Make thy mind happy.  It will not be for long, he said almost inaudibly as he lifted his helmet from the window seat and rose up. The doctor told me so to-day. Thanks, a thousand thanks, good Lizzie. Tomorrow at ten I shall be here to say good-bye. I shall have but a few minutes, that is all. We start at twelve for the front. CHAPTER X THE PARTING KISS Aunt Lizzie slept beside Violet that night, with her arms tightly clasped around the little girl for whom the day was to break so bitterly. She found the soft breathing of the child, so peaceful in its restfulness, almost more difficult to listen to than the quick, uneasy panting of the afternoon. For she knew well the anguish to which she must buy and buy awaken. So he giveth his beloved sleep. She murmured to herself as, in the summer dawn, she watched the little face so tranquilly turned towards her, and though occasionally there was a little fluttering sob, it was only a relic of yesterday's passionate weeping. Once when Violet smiled in her sleep and nestled more closely to her, Lizzie kissed her gently on the forehead. The child moved, smiled again, a broadening happy smile, and said with a sigh of content, on mother's breast, Aunt Lizzie could not sleep.  The cocks crewed and screamed from yard and garden and barn. The fountain at the angle of the street dribbled and splashed monotonously. There was a child crying in an opposite house, bitterly, ceaselessly. The canary awoke, stretched its wings with the help of its thin yellow legs, took a drink at the green fountain, having eyed at first with suspicion, and then burst out into a loud joyous carol. Aunt Lizzie was afraid it would awake Violet, but she slept calmly on. Then the sun itself rose up in all its splendor and shone gloriously over all. The red roofs blazed and glistened. The orange weathercock on the chimney of Madame Belard's house looked as if each separate painted feather on its wings were a tongue of fire, while the scarlet nasturtiums creeping up the red brick shaft trembled and glowed brilliantly. Aunt Lizzie's mind, from the long nights watching, felt hot and confused. The rays of the sun went shone slantingly through the round old-fashioned pains of glass in the window, through stripes of prismatic color on the floor, and on the chest which held the dead mother's clothes and all the little relics of her homely, happy life. If that bitter crying opposite would cease, Lizzie felt as if she could think connectedly. If it were not for the fear of disturbing Violet, she would have got up air now and closed the open pain in the window. She tried to think of the little children at home at Gootsburg, of their bright smiles and heart's innocent of care, but it was impossible. A drum in the distant barrack had begun to throb, and her heart, leaping up to a sudden agony, throbbed with it. How many other hearts, too, were stirring at that call? Men buckling on their armor, and women who had not slept all night, starting up to fresh paroxysms of grief and despair. It was vain to hope that all the brave fellows going forth this day from their homes would come back to them safe and unharmed. Yet each one cried in their heart, Oh God, let this bitterness not come to me. Spare, good Lord, spare my husband. Lord Jesus, have pity on my son. Beloved, thou wilt return to me safe. Ah, dear one, forget me not. While the little ones smiled their addues, knowing not the dread future, at six o'clock the whole town seemed to stir. Men were talking in the streets. Spurs were clanking on the pavement as soldiers hurried to and fro. Bugles were calling, and the incessant rolling of drums came now, not only from the distant barrack across the river, but it seemed as if the whole air and the blue sky itself were full of this dread prophetic sound. At seven o'clock Lizzie, slipping her arm quietly from under Violet, got up and dressed herself. When she came to the window, the first thing she saw opposite was Ella.  Her fair hair was partly tied back with a little white nightcap, but stray locks hung out disconsolately. Her face was supported by her two dimpled hands, and her elbows rested on the sill. It needed but one glance at the child's face and eyes for Aunt Lizzie to know who it was who had spent the night in such ceaseless, bitter weeping. Even now, though her attention seemed temporarily attracted by the bustle in the street, she saw the white-friiled sleeve from time to time pass quickly across the child's face. In a few minutes Fritz appeared at the other little window in the red roof opposite.  And on his head was a newspaper cap, from which streamed ribbons of scarlet, yellow, and blue. When he was momentarily exhausted, he flung open the window and stretched out his head excitedly. War, war, war! he shouted. Fritz will go to the war.  A brass trumpet which generally hung on a nail in the garret window, and which was often used by Fritz as a signal to attract Violet's attention, was now taken down and blown vehemently into the air. And then the drum was rattled upon more vigorously than ever. A few of those gathered beneath in the street looked up on hearing the noise, and recognizing Fritz smiled somewhat sadly. But when Lizzie glanced across again at the little window of Ella's room, the child had vanished, and the drum having ceased clattering for a moment, she could hear that the crying in the room opposite had been resumed.  He will certainly awaken our Violet. She tried to attract Fritz's attention to make him desist, but finding it useless, she fastened the bolt and turned back into the room. To her surprise, on looking round, she found Violet sitting up in her bed, her eyes wide open and her face very pale. Aunt Lizzie? Well, darling, has thou been long awake? A little while. When will Father be here? Very soon now. I do not want to say goodbye, Aunt Lizzie. No, darling, it is a hard word to speak. Will Father say goodbye to Violet? I suppose so. It is at least likely. But, wherefore, darling child, does thou ask Aunt Lizzie this question? I do not want to say goodbye. Repeated Violet in the same sad voice. It makes Violet cry to say goodbye. Ah! Aunt Lizzie paused with a little start as she suddenly recognized the cause of the child's distressful thoughts. Ah! I understand it. Violet would rather that there were no goodbyes, said. Aunt Lizzie will tell Father so, and he will understand what Violet wishes. Is not this what thou meanest, dearest child? Violet nodded her head. Aunt Lizzie, what is Fritz shouting about over there at the window? And is not his father also going away to the war? Yes, my child, and Fritz is screaming out that he will be a soldier too. He is a noisy lad, that Fritz. Violet wants to be a soldier too, she said, in an almost inaudible voice. But Father is so long and coming, and Violet's heart goes so quick, Aunt Lizzie, and it makes her sick. Here, let me smooth thy hair. Her aunt stooped quickly and kissed the little white face. Let me bathe thy face and put on a nice clean pinafore, and then thou would look so bright and fresh for Father. And now try and drink this cup of milk. It will do thee good. She offered the cup to her, but the child shook her head. I could not drink it. All the morning something is in Violet's throat, just here, and she cannot make it go down. Well, we will not bind the milk. Aunt Lizzie put the cup on the table, and brushed out her leg. She put the cup on the table, and brushed out her long, fair hair, and tied it up with her purple ribbon. She bathed her face with warm water from the saucepan on the stove, and the pinafore was already half over her head when the door opened and John came in. Aunt Lizzie, is it Father? Tell him, tell him quickly! cried Violet in a sudden tremor. Violet cannot be a soldier unless thou tellest him first what I said to thee. Lizzie turned from the bed, leaving the pinafore still over the child's face. John was already halfway across the room, and there was such a look of questioning anguish in his gaze as it met hers that she could scarcely frame the words of poor Violet's request. She whispered, however, something in his ear, which, after a second's thought, he readily understood, and stepping over towards the bed, he waited until Lizzie drew the pinafore down from his little girl's face, gazing at her with the expression in his eyes of one who waits with a speechless pain and dread to look on the features of the dead. But what was this? When the face was uncovered there was a smile, an actual smile on her lips, and one which grew with the mounting color in her cheeks as she stretched up her arms quickly and sat in a hurried whisper, Father, Violet has been waiting for thee. Yes, darling, I am somewhat late, but it was with difficulty I could push my way up here through the streets. I thought at one time I should hardly have been able to force my way through them at all, and that I should have been forced to say goodbye from the street. From the street? cried Aunt Lizzie and Violet in one breath. Yes, the Colonel has decided that we are to march through the marketplace and then down by the fountain and along past these windows to the station. And I shall see thee again, Father? Yes, my darling. Aunt Lizzie will hold me in her arms, and I will look out at thee from the window. Yes, little treasure, yes. And Violet will watch thee coming up the street, and then she will see thee all the way along, along, until at last she will look and look and will see thee no more. The smile had spread wider and wider, and the eyes fixed on his face had dilated and darkened to their deepest purple. But now there came a sudden pause, and the lips trembled. It was evident the struggle could not last much longer. The little heart was brave, but the flesh was weak. Father, I have a secret. Yes, my own Violet, what is it? He stooped down and Aunt Lizzie moved away. Does thou see my face, Father? Yes, yes, the sweetest face in all the world. But does thou see it, Father? Yes. Put thy arms round my neck, and I will tell thee Violet's secret. He put his arms round his little daughter, and held her tightly to his breast while she placed her lips to his ear. Violet is a soldier.  And Father, listen. Look once more at Violet's face.  There was a pause, and then came the whisper, scarcely more than a fluttering breath. Does thou not see? No more tears. He held her back for one moment and looked into her eyes. He kissed her passionately twice, then recognizing that this whisper was his darling's farewell, he drew her to his heart with one long silent pressure, and turned away quickly. One moment he gazed from the window, then stretching out his hand to Lizzie with averted face, he passed out into the street. End of Chapter 10 Chapter 11 of On Angel's Wings This is a Librivox recording. All Librivox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit Librivox.org. Recorded by Celine Majore On Angel's Wings by Louisa Lilias Green 11. The Bunch of Violets For a long time after John left the room, Lizzie did not look round at Violet. She could not trust herself to do so. Bitter tears were running quickly down her own cheeks, and she dreaded to see the face of the child, so she sat by the stove and covered her eyes with her hands, grieving, oh so sorely, that there was yet another farewell to be gone through, and that Violet's small stock of strength and brave little spirit must be tried still further. She was surprised, therefore, when about a quarter of an hour after John's departure Violet called to her in a low, quiet voice. Aunt Lizzie, is the flower shop far from here? No, my darling, it is only just round the corner. I mean the stall where Fritz buys the flowers for mother. I forget the name. I do not know the name either, replied her aunt, rising and rushing the tears off her face, but yesterday afternoon when I was walking from the station I noticed beautiful flowers for sale in a shop close to this house. Didst thou see any violets there? Yes, plenty of them. There was a short pause, and then Violet said earnestly, Aunt Lizzie, will thou go to the shop and buy me some violets? It is not far, thou saidst, and I have some money in my new desk. Of course I will go, said Aunt Lizzie, turning it once to look for her hat. Never mind the money, darling, they will not cost much. But I should like to give the money, and please, Aunt Lizzie, buy a large bunch and very sweet. Sometimes Fritz buys violets that have no smell, and I do not care for them. All right, Aunt Lizzie will choose the very sweetest she can find. And now here is the desk, and while Aunt Lizzie is tying on her hat thou canst take out the money. Violet opened her new possession and with trembling eager fingers removed the little secret receptacle which held her newly acquired money and drew out several silver coins. She placed them on the counterpane and waited for her aunt to turn round. Aunt Lizzie, wilt thou do one more thing for Violet? Certainly anything. What is it, my little darling? For the child's face was covered with a crimson blush which darkened in its distress to almost a purple hue. Darling, what is it? The cake, Aunt Lizzie, which father put by last night in the cupboard. May I have it? Certainly. Then seeing her increased confusion she added thoughtfully. Aunt Lizzie is too glad that Violet should care to have the cake. It was made for thee, dearest, and madame would be so disappointed if thou didst not eat some of it. Violet did not speak. She lifted her eyes nervously to her aunt's face and moved her hands restlessly to and fro on the counterpane. I suppose I had better cut a slice for thee, the dish is so heavy, and now I may give thee some milk, dearest. Thou hast had no breakfast. Please don't cut the cake, Aunt Lizzie. Well, here it is. I will put it on the table beside thee, and here is the milk. Violet nodded her head with that silent acquiescence which so often with her took the place of words, and Aunt Lizzie went down the stairs perplexed and wondering. When she reached the little side street she found the flower stall literally besieged with women and children purchasing bouquets and bunches of flowers to give to their dear ones ere they started for the war. Beautiful blue forget-me-nots, moss roses, lilies of the valley. It seemed this morning as if the poorest child in the town had a penny to spare for this purpose. Aunt Lizzie could scarcely force her way to the back of the stall where a basket of sweet purple violets not yet unpacked had caught her eye. No, no! cried the woman excitedly as Lizzie put down her hand to select a bunch. These cannot be touched until the others on the counter are sold.  I promised I would bring her home the sweetest in thy shop, and she will pay thee well, too, poor little girl. Who is the child? asked the woman curiously looking up at the young wife's bleeding face as something in the eyes and the voice stirring up old recollections. Is it little Violet who has sent thee for them? Yes, yes, the same. Take then what thou wilt and from where thou wilt? There are even better bunches in the little tub under the table. Real sweet violets from the king's garden. But they are not too good for her. Lizzie knelt down and selected the finest bunch she could find in the tub. Deep purple violets with the dew still on them and their stalks bound up with soft green moss. Thanks a thousand times. These are real beauties, she said gratefully. How much do I owe thee for them? And she held out her hand in the palm of which lay Violet's money. Nothing, said the woman quickly. Go take them to her. She is welcome to them. But Violet wished to pay. She will be grieved. Don't let her grieve, then. She has enough pain in her heart for this day, I warn't. If she says anything, tell her that I will call some day myself for my payment, and that will be one look at her sweet little face. There, take a bunch of those blue forget-me-nots beside thee, and don't stop to thank me. My hands are too full this morning for such needless waste of time. And she turned away quickly to attend to her other customers.  How this little girl was beloved by all the town. She, a poor, sick, crippled child, and yet she seemed to have cords of love binding her to almost every heart in the town.  When she reached the house she paused a moment at the door, for she was anxious to give violet time to eat some of the breakfast which she had left beside her, and in the nervous state in which she had left her she felt sure that little girl would not be able to do so if anyone were beside her. So, leaning against the entrance door of the house with the flowers and money in her hand, she stood a little aside from the crowd, lost in a sorrowful reverie. It was not until a figure had darkened the doorway for a full minute or so that she looked up, and perceived the policeman standing in front of her. How goes it with the little girl upstairs? He said in a dry matter of fact voice. Pretty well, thank you. She replied wondering at the interruption. Does she sleep? Can she eat? Is she heart broken? He spoke abruptly, and Lizzie noticed with surprise that his lip was trembling beneath this thick, frizzled mustache. She is making a brave fight, replied she warmly, but the worst is to come. Yes, that is it, he said quickly. Once he is gone there will be no keeping her.  Good morning. It is well for her today that she has one kind heart to fly to. He touched his hat with military punctilio as he departed, but his eyes which looked straight before him out into the street were full of tears. How does he know about her, thought Aunt Lizzie wonderingly as she went slowly up the stairs, and what a soft heart he must have beneath that hard and battered exterior. When she opened the door of Violet's room she found the child sitting up in her bed with her face flushed and her eyes unnaturally bright.  Her aunt went over to the bedside with her bunch of deep purple violets and the blue forget-me-nots and laid them on the coverlet. As she did so Violet looked up and said rather wearily, Aunt Lizzie, can't thou help me? Certainly, what is it? It is so hard to print such a long word, and she pointed with a nervous hesitation to the pink letters on the cake. Her aunt saw it all now. The little scrap of paper covered with almost illegible letters and the shy action of the child to hide the effort from her eyes. Couldst not thou hold my hand on the pencil and show me how? She asked almost piteously, Violet prints so badly. Of course I can. Wait but one moment until I take off my hat and cloak, and we will do it beautifully together. It is not after all so badly done. She added comfortingly as she took up the paper and examined it. I can read the off quite plainly, and the other letters can be easily improved. In a little time the words were printed quite distinctly, of Vidozane, to meet again. Violet drew a deep breath as they were finished and lay back on her pillows, but after a time she roused herself up again and said, Still one thing more, Aunt Lizzie. Violet wants to print her own name on the paper all by herself. She must do it quite by herself alone, but thou can't sprint it first, and then Violet can do it afterwards ever so like. Aunt Lizzie saw it once what the child wanted, and so one letter at a time was drawn by her on a separate piece of paper, and Violet copied it painfully until at last, with many shaky strokes and trembling up lines and places where there were no lines visible at all. The name Violet was printed in, crookedly enough, beneath the farewell words of love and hope. To meet again. Those are lovely words, Aunt Lizzie, are they not, and Violet smiled for her task of love was finished. Then with hands that trembled painfully she fastened the crumpled paper to the bunch of violets lying on the bed and looked up at her aunt. I will not put these, she said simply, touching the flowers which lay beside the other bunch on the counterpane. Father will not forget his Violet, for thou seeest I am his little Violet. Am I not, Aunt Lizzie? And he would much rather have those. I know he would.  The violets are far the best, she said with decision. The forget-me-nots are present from the flower-woman to thyself. Oh, how kind! How lovely! She said almost in a whisper as she lifted the blue flowers to cover the fast rising blushes which the painful excitement of the moment kept ever driving to her cheeks. Aunt Lizzie, what is that? She started up with a bitter cry. It is the drum, it is the drum, and Violet does not dress. It was the drum. Her aunt went over to the window and looked out. Far, far away down at the foot of the hill close by the church she could see soldiers marching out of the marketplace and defiling into the square in front of the large fountain. Aunt Lizzie, is it the drum? Violet knows it is the drum, and she is not dressed to see Father go by. The cry grew to a shriek. Lizzie's face was deathly pale as she turned around, but she said quietly, Do not fret, thou dear angel. Aunt Lizzie will put on thy dressing gown and hold thee in her arms at the window. Quick, quick!  They are coming quite close. I hear them. They are still a long way off, said her aunt reassuringly. It will take them nearly ten minutes to reach the top of the hill. But my father, he will watch for me. He will look up for me. He will think I am not there. Hush, quiet a moment, or I cannot lift thee in my arms.  Now where are the violets? Here, here! cried the child, stretching out her hand. Now open the window quick. Aunt Lizzie, there he is. I see him. My father. My dear father. The band was playing a familiar martial air. The drum is thundered and shook the air. The trumpet blast seemed to cut all hearts and thunder. The old men and children in the window screamed and shrieked while the women in the streets rushing along wildly beside the soldiers uttered loud cries and bitter lamentations, and yet above all was heard one voice, one little child's voice uplifted high in its misery. My father. My father. Look up. Look at thy Violet. She is here at the window. Aunt Lizzie, hold me tight. I cannot see. The ground is moving. My father. Where is he? I saw him a moment ago. He is just approaching. He is now beneath thee in the street, darling. Lean out. Aunt Lizzie will not let thee fall. Father, Father, farewell, farewell. Come back to Violet. She flung the violets as she spoke far out into the quivering air. They fell first upon the heads of the surging crowd beneath and then upon the ground. The men were marching on, John had passed by, and Aunt Lizzie groaned as she saw that in another moment they must be trampled under foot. But while Violet still cried aloud, farewell, farewell, someone in the crowd had pushed forward, stooped down hurriedly, and picked them up. It was the policeman, and with a quick onward rush he had overtaken John in his march and thrust the flowers into his hand. John gave one glance at the little paper which had unrolled itself in its fall and displayed its farewell message to his aching eyes. He turned his head, waved the violets high above his shining helmet, and looked lingeringly back at the face so deathly pale at the open window. He sees thee, my darling, he is waving his hand to thee, cried her aunt with choking tears. Farewell, farewell, farewell, to meet again, cried Violet with failing voice. Dear Father, to meet again, too. But the black-moving mass had passed out of sight, the helmets had ceased to glitter, and Violet's head sank on Aunt Lizzie's shoulder. So my little loved one, we must rest now, she said softly, and Aunt Lizzie will lie down beside Violet while she tries to sleep. But at this moment a bell over her head rang with a somewhat sharp clang. What is that? she said, pausing, astonished with the child in her arms. Oh, it is nothing. Only the basket bell, Aunt Lizzie. The basket bell? What is that? And where is it? The bell is over Violet's chair, and the basket is in the street, replied the child, wearily. Lay me down, Aunt Lizzie, for Violet's head aches so. Lizzie laid the child on the bed and shook up the pillows. The bell rang again. Aunt Lizzie crept over to the window quietly and looked about her curiously, till presently catching sight of a red cord attached to Violet's chair. She imagined she had lit on the right object. She drew it up inch by inch, and by and by the little straw basket made its appearance at the window, and she lifted it in. She hesitated a moment, then seeing Violet's eyes open, she asked her softly, am I to open it, darling, or shall I give it to thee? Do thou open it, Aunt Lizzie? Violet is too tired. Her aunt drew out, with some surprise, a small package, most carefully fastened up and sealed. On the outside was printed in a clear, strong hand for little Violet from a friend. This must be a present for thee, my child, something very precious it seems to. Oh, not now, put it away, Aunt Lizzie, Violet's head aches so. What, thou wilt not even look at it? cried her aunt, whose own curiosity was now somewhat raised, and she carried the package over to the side of the bed, but Violet only pressed her head down into the pillows and waved a gift away with her hand. Aunt Lizzie, Aunt Lizzie, my head aches so. Come and sit beside Violet, for her father, her good, dear father, is gone away, so far away. And what can she do? What can she do? What can she do? There were sobs, but as yet no tears. Thou canst pray to the good God to keep him safe and well, said her aunt softly, as she laid the packet on the table. That will do thee good. But while she stooped down and comforted the child with a kiss, and loving words, there was a knock at the door, and she cried softly, Oh, who comes now? The child is tired and must sleep. But it was the doctor who opened the door and walked in. He had promised John the night before to look after little Violet in the first access of her trouble, and as he walked towards the bed, she gave him a little smile of welcome. He sat down beside her, drawing his chair quite close up, and took the little girl's hand in his, looking earnestly at her for a few minutes without speaking.  What is this? said the doctor, turning his eyes slowly away from her, and looking at the sealed package on the table close to him. What have we here? A present for Violet from a friend? He took it up in his hand and examined it carefully. Thou hast not opened it yet, I perceive. No, some other day, she said softly. Why some other day? Why not now? And the doctor held out the packet to her. She stretched out her hand nervously, but it trembled so, and the parcel was so waiting for its size, that it fell from her grasp on the counterpane. There, there, that is enough. I will open it for thee. The doctor took it up and broke the seal, looking at it curiously as he did so. It had on it a little bird flying out of a cage, with a simple motto over it, free at last. Inside the paper was a layer of soft pink cotton wool. It must be something very precious, said the doctor, adjusting his glasses. Violet rose a little on her elbow and looked also. Ho, I have a guess, but I can scarcely believe it possible. What, she asked in a low voice, scarcely conscious, even that she spoke, and with her eyes riveted on the parcel, from which the doctor was now slowly removing the pink wool. Oh, wonderful, I have guessed rightly. It is what I thought, and this is a gift for thee, Violet. But what is it? I cannot see it. She rose now entirely from her pillows. Oh Aunt Lizzie, see? It is a watch.  Is it possible? A watch, for me, how beautiful. Violet held it in her hand, gazing at it with those deep purple-colored eyes, which spoke so often to those she loved, even when the mouth was silent. Let me look at it again. It is quite a beauty. The doctor took it in his hand. It was a silver watch with a double case, a case which opened with a spring to show the face. The back was all chased with the ordinary crisscross lines, only in the center there was a small round space with the name carved on it. And on the opposite side there was a space also, filled in with a wreath of blue forget-me-nots in enamel. Oh, how strange. I have certainly seen this watch before. Let me try if I could read the name. The doctor rose and, going over to the window, adjusted his glasses with great accuracy. It is just as I thought. Margaret. And who is the friend who has given our little Violet this beautiful present? I do not know, she said, shaking her head. It came in the basket. In the basket? said the doctor. And there was no name? None replied Aunt Lizzie. I drew it up myself and took out the parcel. That is quite certain. Then I must tell no tales, said the good old man, smiling. Only Violet I know will take great care of the present. And turning back, he replaced the watch in her hand. Yes, she said softly, but her eyes were full of question. It belonged once to a little sick girl whom I knew well, and who is now an angel in heaven, he said in a low voice.  Yes, she died early this spring, just when the flowers were beginning to shoot up and the locks to sing. She just stretched out her wings like the little bird on this seal and flew straight up to heaven. Her wings cried Violet with a gasp. Was she? She paused again, coloring painfully. Was she what?  Asked the doctor kindly. Was she a little hunchback like me? A what? What does the child say? Cried the doctor in evident distress. Yes, she was like thee, and I will tell thee why, because she was one of the sweetest little maidens in the world, and with a sudden tenderness, he stroked back Violet's hair and kissed her on the forehead. She was one of the Lord Jesus' own little lambs, and when she was very tired and very sad, she told him all her trouble, and he loved her and comforted her. Yes, said Violet with a little trembling sigh, and enormous tears rising up and clouding her eyes. And now, he said, sitting down by the bedside and taking the child's hand, we must feel Violet's pulse with this new watch and make it useful. What a burning little hand it was, and how the poor heart was beating. There was no need to look at the minute hand, for the thread of life leaped on at a countless speed, and the doctor closed the cover with a snap. Violet is a good girl. She will take the medicine I shall send her presently.  She looked up swiftly, deprecatingly at her aunt. She has been such a good girl all morning, said Aunt Lizzie. She has been so brave, our Violet. She would not shed a tear to fright her father, or make his heart ache. I think now we may let her cry a little. Is it not so, sir? Certainly, it will do her good to cry. The doctor's voice was husky, and he dropped his glasses quickly, so that they clicked against the buttons of his coat. I shall send her up now at once a little drought, very small, and without a bad taste. Let her take it in the moment it comes, and try to keep the room and the house quiet. We must get her over this day and night somehow, he added as he reached the door. Of all the patients I shall have to see this afternoon. There is not one for whom my heart aches, as it does for the little maiden yonder. The sorrow of this world will not trouble her long. Good evening! And going down the stairs, the doctor blew his nose sonorously, and went out into the street. The thoroughfare was almost deserted now. The women had gone back into their houses to weep and pray, and the men, what able-bodied men there were left, had resumed their daily toil. It seemed as if a great fire had died out of the heart of the town, and left nothing but ashes behind it. Only the clank of the policemen's sword could be heard resounding through the empty street, clinking slowly against the stones of the pavement. Good evening! said the doctor as they met presently face to face. How goes it with thee, William? I suppose thy son is off with all the rest of the lads this morning. Yes, doctor. It has been a hard day for thee, no doubt. Yes, hard enough, though the good God pardoned me, I nearly lost sight of the poor lad, watching the girl up at the window yonder, throwing the violets to her father. It was enough to make one's heartstrings crack. She reminds thee of thy little Margaret, no doubt, said the doctor kindly. I have seen the likeness, and I have also seen the joy, which thy kind heart has procured for her this afternoon, and perhaps the most critical moment of her life. God repraised, said the policemen earnestly. Can she, will she live? Do you think, until he returns? Heaven only knows, replied the doctor, as he nodded his farewell. It is well for those good friends who are already at rest. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. The next morning, Fritz and Ella came over quite early before Violet was up to see her. Her head ached still, and Aunt Lizzie had advised her to stay in bed until after dinner. All night she had lain, but the silver watch clasped in her hand. And all the morning, too, she had held it tightly, pressed in toward her. It had belonged once to a little girl who was now in heaven. That had been the burden of her thoughts ever since she had heard its story.  The doctor had said so, and she remembered a day long ago when she had heard her father say to her mother that the doctor was the best and kindest man in all Edelstein. And then poor Violet, bearing her head deep down in the pillows, had said in a low voice of entreaty, Oh, good Lord Jesus, give Violet wings, too, and take her soon to heaven. Fritz was, for him, quite nervous when he first entered the room, and Ella kept as much in his shadow as possible. Everyone in the house and in the street had been talking about Violet and her great trouble since the departure of the regiment. And Fritz had come to look upon his little friend as a kind of curiosity to be approached with an unusual degree of compassion and gentleness. But the ruse of the old policeman to distract her thoughts for a time had succeeded almost beyond his hopes.  Thy watch? Who gave it thee? I do not know, she said, with a slow sweet smile. It came in the basket. It has forget-me-nots on one side and Margaret on the other, and the little girl it belonged to is in heaven. How dost thou know? The doctor said so. She was very, very sick, and when the flowers and the larks came, God gave her wings, and she flew right up there. Where? asked Fritz. There, far away, over the ruse and over the steeple, high, high, ever so high up, up till at last she was with God. And who was she? What was her name? questioned Fritz. I do not know, said Violet, shaking her head. But Fritz, I was wondering.  Thou, rememberous, dost thou not? It came in the basket, too. What book? About the little hunchback, said Violet in a whisper. Oh, cried Fritz, with quite a visible start. Yes, of course, I remember the fairytale book. We thought at first it was the girl with the oranges, but she cannot be in heaven because I saw her today. No, not a bit of that girl is in heaven. Ella cried joyously. Fritz and I saw her today. Fritz climbed up the steps and gave her hair a chuck, and she jumped around so fast that she fell over and bumped down every step, bump, bump, bump, and all the oranges galloped after her. When she got to the bottom, screamed Ella, she was sitting in the middle of her own basket and her heels up in the air. So, and Ella plumped down on her back on the floor and elevated two of the stoutest legs imaginable. She bellowed after us that she would call the police, cried Fritz, continuing the story with much zest. But I screamed back to her that the police would put her in prison for sticking pins in her oranges and sucking them, as I have seen her do hundreds of times. Then she flew into a worse rage and said that she would run home and tell her father. So Ella and I laughed, for she would have a long way to run to tell her father. Would she not violent? Yes, she said quickly, but the smile which had risen at the children's story suddenly died out from her lips. Fritz said, perhaps she would have to run all the way to Paris and it would be nicer to pick up oranges out of the gutter than cannonballs and be bursted all to pieces by powder. Aunt Lizzie cried hush and rose from her chair by the stove. But the children did not hear her and went on excitedly. And do you know there has been fighting already and lots of people killed, but not in our regiment added Fritz hastily, for he was alarmed at the sudden agony that came into Violet's face. I saw the picture cried Ella at the tip top of her voice. I saw it in the window shop, a man climbing up a great steep rock with no head on him at all. It had just been banged off his body by a gun and another man on his face with only one leg. And does thou know what Fritz said? If he had been there, the French people would never have got into that town. Not they old blockheads as they are. What town? asked Violet almost in a whimper. Sarbrook near the Rhine. But it was all a shabby trick of the French. So all the people say. And we will make them pay for it by and by. See if we won't. We will hunt them out of it again with cannons and powders and drums. Yes with powders and drums shouted Ella. And does thou know Violet? Fritz wanted to go to the war with father and beat a big drum all day with an apron on him. And he screamed so. Father said perhaps. And all night Ella cried and cried and never stopped. And in the morning father got out of his bed and kissed Ella and said Fritz must stay at home and take care of me. And Fritz was in such a rage he tore Ella's nightcap in two and flung it in the bread oven. Come now. We've had enough noise for one afternoon. Said Aunt Lizzie quietly. Suppose we all sit round the stove and let Violet rest. Her head has ached all morning and she looks very tired. Oh no Aunt Lizzie let them stay. Said Violet. And she stretched out her hand to the children. I have not seen Fritz for many days nor Ella either. Mother would not let us come. Said Fritz bluntly. She said thou wouldst be busy saying goodbye to thy father and crying and it would be no use bothering. Yes. Very busy crying. Said Ella plaintively. And I'm going to begin now and say my prayers. Observe Fritz whose eyes had suddenly rested on Violet's Bible lying on the table beside her bed. Mother says Ella and I ought to pray every morning and every night for father to come home safe and so I'm going to begin tonight. And didst thou not always say thy prayers every morning and every night asked Aunt Lizzie in some surprise. Oh yes I always say them. Observe Fritz. But I don't think about them. At least not much. He does not think about them. One scrap Ella said cheerfully. He stares at the wall and goes sound asleep. And sometimes he looks round at me and begins to laugh. And sometimes he rattles his heels on the ground until mother comes up and smacks him. Aunt Lizzie shook her head at this history and Violet said in a low voice. Oh Fritz. Is not Ella joking? No replied Fritz truthfully. I don't much care for saying prayers. I'd like to ask God for things which I think he will give me. But it tires me to say the same thing so often. At least one month I used to pray every day for a lovely gray pony that was in the field. And I never got it. And besides every morning when I woke I used to always say to God Good Lord God make little Violet well. And yet thou art still sick and weaker and weaker. And then continued Fritz. Bending close down beside her and speaking in a whisper. Once I prayed in the day too when I read that book about the little hunchback girl. I went straight home and asked God to give thee wings too. And yet thou hast never got them. Yes said Ella in a very grave tone. Having overheard the whisper. He went straight home and locked the door and would not let Ella in. And Ella banged and banged and it was all no use. And then she put her eye to the keyhole and Fritz was saying his prayers at the kitchen table. And Ella heard him say please good Lord Jesus put wings on Violet's hump like the little girl in the story. Amen. Hush. We have had quite enough talking for one day cried Aunt Lizzie again hurriedly. Her face flushing crimson as she gazed in anguish at the little sick girl in the bed. Away with the Ella. Away with the two Fritz. I cannot have my little girl tired. But Violet flung her arms round Fritz's neck affectionately and cried out gratefully about dear good Fritz. Then putting her lips to his ear she said in a low whisper the Lord Jesus does always hear when Fritz prays and he will give me wings and he will do all that Fritz asks him. End of chapter 13 Chapter number 14 of On Angels Wings This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Recorded by Lola Jane On Angels Wings by Louisa Lylez Green Chapter 14 Evelina The next day about four o'clock in the afternoon Evelina arrived from Goodsburg. Violet had been told that she was coming and that she was to be her own little maid and companion until her father returned to Edelstein from the war. Aunt Lizzie too had promised that she would often come over and see her and Fritz and Ella would meantime be her daily companions. And Madam Adler too had promised John that she would be constantly on the watch coming to see that the child was well and happy. It will not be for very long, will it? She had said to her Aunt Lizzie as she was being dressed that morning for the first time since the departure of the regimen. What will not be for long? Until father comes home replied Violet smiling. I heard him tell me so that night when the moon was shining through the window. Did not he, Aunt Lizzie? The child's eyes deepened with prophetic joy as she gazed full into her aunt's face waiting for a reply. It did not come at once and she added with an ever-increasing smile. And when the war is over I shall see him again ever so soon.  And then all the fighting will be over and we shall never have to say goodbye any more. Aunt Lizzie was drawing on Violet's stocking and she bent her head very low to see that the scene was straight at the ankle. When she looked up again the smile was still on Violet's lips but her eyes were looking far away up into the blue sky high, high up above the roofs and the steeple to where the little sick girl whose watch was beating so close to her own heart now had gone up to be with God. Whenever Lena arrived there was quite a little company gathered together to meet her Aunt Lizzie and Violet and Fritz and Ella and Madame Adler who had baked a special loaf for the supper and who had also a curiosity to see the new girl and form her own opinion as to her capabilities.    I saw her face and she is ever so pretty. She is indeed Violet ever, ever so pretty. Violet nodded her head in her grave peculiar way. It was a moment of intense excitement to her the advent of this new girl the friend who was to be always with her until her father's return but no one could hear the throbbing of the little girl's heart and though her eyes darkened and the pupils grew wider and wider no one knew the tumult going on within her breast. As a rule she took no interest in strangers. Like all Invalids she shrank from the interest of those with whom she was not intimate and those who knew and loved her pitied her distress when the crimson blushes rushing in waves over her pale face showed the nervous tremor of her heart but to form a really new friendship was a thing almost impossible to her. She loved those whom she had known all her life with a tenacity far beyond the usual love of children. She clung to them as all sick people cling to those who daily watch and tend them and though Aunt Lizzie had sought in every way to inspire her with a feeling of confidence and interest in Avelina she shrank from the thought of their first meeting. And now as she heard the ascending footsteps a sudden rush of unreasonable distrust and premature dislike seemed to fill her heart and she turned her face quickly away towards the window and held fast hold of Fritz's hand who was standing with gaping mouth and eyes riveted on the doorway. There was a little flutter in the room Aunt Lizzie rose and moved toward the door Madame Adler too went forward. Ella drew back a step or two from the stove and Violet still looking with straining eyes at the house's opposite heard as the door open a sweet voice saying in reply to some question of her aunt yes thank you very much I have had a very good journey it was almost stiflingly hot on the train but the air is cooler now and the children asked Aunt Lizzie all the little angels they are as well as possible they cried of course when I took leave of them but the master is taking them out this afternoon for a walk in the gardens and the little one is quite happy ah this after the little sick girl yonder Violet turned her head quickly round and looked up oh how white she is Aunt Lizzie hurried forward and stood beside Violet's chair here sweet one she said kissing her on the forehead this is Evelina of whom we have talked so much thou and she will be great friends by and by she has come all the way from Gutsberg to take care of thee is it not so my treasure Violet nodded her head and smiled nervously then stretched out her hand to take Evelina's but there was no enthusiasm in the moment ah the poor child she is nervous she is shy but we shall soon be the best of friends cried Evelina pleasantly one cannot expect the little one to take to me all at once and who is this lad who looks as if he would eat me with his eyes eh I am Violet's own friend replied Fritz coloring purple but placing his hand firmly on the back of Violet's chair ah it is pleasant for her to have such a good friend observed Evelina laughing and throwing back her head so that the little gold bells on her ears tinkled but by and by you must be my friend too is it not so eh perhaps said Fritz shortly while poor Violet looked down at her pinafore and blushed because Fritz was somewhat uncivil in his reply and who is this little cherub with the red cheeks is she also a friend asked Evelina as she sat down on the cushioned window seat and tried to lift Ella on her knee but the child wriggled somewhat roughly away from her and a shower of wooden animals ducks pigs and camels which had been arrayed along the ledge overhead tumbled down in confusion over Evelina's hat shoulders and lap this created a general laugh in which even Violet joined and the first stiffness of the introduction was in this manner happily got over Evelina had a very pretty and pleasant face there was certainly nothing to frighten one in it her hair which seemed one mass of frisley golden threads was brushed back from her face and pinned at the sides with somewhat large gold pins she had eyes that seemed ever sparkling and smiling rosy lips and cheeks with dimples in them when she took off her hat and put on a very dainty white cap with crimpled frillings of lace and a snowy linen apron also edged with carefully golfered frills she looked so fair and sweet and happy that Violet's eyes became riveted upon her and she followed all her movements with an unconscious interest at last the moment came from Madame Adler to say goodbye and Fritz and Ella as usual took a loving farewell of their little playfellow as Fritz flung his arms round Violet's neck he said in a whisper she is pretty this Evelina but what cried Violet a sudden distress coming into her eyes what is it Fritz nothing I'm not sure I don't know some other day I will tell thee and before she could drag his meaning from him he had marched across the room with head erect and so he proceeded his mother down the stairs End of Chapter 14 Recorded by Céline Maggiore That butt of Fritz's rested all the evening somewhat heavily on Violet's heart otherwise there was something about Evelina that would perforce her fascinated the child it was a face that seemed to grow prettier each time she looked at it and her voice was so sweet especially when she sang little snatches of song which she did apparently unconsciously as she went about the room setting everything in apple pie order and dusting the ornaments and furniture with an easy grace as if all she did were a pleasure to her in the evening after Violet had been put to bed Aunt Lizzie went out to get some letters and Evelina and her charge were left alone the moment the door closed on her protectress the nervous look came back to Violet's eyes and she gazed with a distressed intentness at the shining brass balls at the foot of her bed Evelina however appeared quite unconscious of any difference in her manner she added wood to the stove polish the brass kettle cheer up to the canary and then seating herself at the window she took out her knitting and with swiftly flying fingers went on with a stalking which she was making for one of the little boys at Gootsberg this she told Violet presently with much laughter describing how the little tease Henry had pulled all the needles out of her work just at the most critical part to make sticks for his soldier's flags and how she had had to go back and knit half the leg over again and all the time that she laughed and told her story she was knitting away without once looking at her work but straight out of the window at the houses and shops opposite once when she looked up hastily she became aware of two faces placed against the high up window of the house almost exactly opposite and she saw that four eager eyes were following all her movements with an intense interest in the fair round smiling face with its great blue eyes and its golden curls all tucked away inside a plain white linen nightcap Avelina did not at first recognize Ella but a glance at the burning eyes of the little boy who stood beside her and who seemed to watch her own actions with an almost jealous anxiety was sufficient to make her recognize the lad who had stood by Violet's chair that afternoon and had replied so shortly to her question that he was Violet's own friend Ah, that is where he lives, thy little friend How he does stare Avelina put down her knitting for a minute and nodding across to Fritz drew out her pocket handkerchief and waved it through the open pane beside her Fritz bowed in reply rather stiffly Ella pressed about in some excitement for a moment but noticing that Fritz's expression was somewhat gloomy she became grave also and in a few minutes they both disappeared from the window Then, almost without being aware of it Violet and Avelina fell into quite a natural talk Avelina had so many questions to ask about Ella and Fritz and their parents and the people who lived on either side of them and how they all were and what occupations they had so that when Aunt Lizzie returned from her walk she was quite delighted to hear as she placed her hand on the door a quiet little laugh from Violet as she exclaimed an evident amusement Indeed he is not he is a grand old fellow and I love him Old, replied Avelina, why I should not call him old and he is very handsome I can see him now quite plainly for he is looking up at me this moment Avelina had risen and was gazing out through the casement as Aunt Lizzie entered so she did not hear her mistress's step until she was quite close beside her Of whom art thou speaking, darling? Asked Aunt Lizzie glad to notice the smile which was still lingering on Violet's face Of the old policeman Avelina asked me if he was a very cruel man and he is so good, Aunt Lizzie He sometimes kisses his hand to me and does not thou remember it was he who picked up my violets and gave them to... to father There was a sudden break in the child's voice and the smile died suddenly away Ah yes, he is a good old fellow, replied her Aunt quickly He spoke to me the other day and asked me all about thee About me, Aunt Lizzie? Yes, darling, about thee Violet has many friends in the town of whom she knows little or perhaps nothing but they know her they look up at her as they go past the window and they love her They love me Violet smiled again an inquiring happy smile and her little white face mantled with modest blushes So many friends, she said softly then added almost in a whisper and also Aunt Lizzie, the Lord Jesus He is my friend too, is he not? He is indeed thy best friend So good a friend that no matter who else goes away and leaves little Violet he is always beside her and when she is very tired and her back aches and her heart is sad then she has only to think how close he is beside her and rest her little tired head just so against his breast and as Aunt Lizzie spoke she drew Violet close beside her and covered her up-turned face with loving kisses Evelina was seated again in the window as Aunt Lizzie turned round from the bed Her fingers were flying swiftly the steel needles clattered and chinked but there was a moisture in her usually bright eyes which her mistress understood and was glad to see Two days afterwards Aunt Lizzie returned to Gutsberg leaving Evelina in sole charge of Violet She had almost grown accustomed to her now At first it was a sore trial to her that Evelina slept in the room which used to be her mother's When the door of it opened and shut her heart gave sudden leaps and starts which made her sick and wretched When she saw Evelina's hat hanging on the same nail where her mother's used to be she turned her eyes away quickly but even to this she soon grew accustomed and said to herself with a long wishful sigh when father comes back all will be like home again Fritz too became much more friendly with Evelina as the days wore on She had quite a fund of fairy tales and children's stories which she used to tell them in the evenings It was after supper was finished that they used to gather round her in the window and Violet's eyes grew and darkened and deepened in the summer twilight as she listened enthralled to the stories of forest gnomes and elves that hid themselves beneath the fragrant ferns and mosses of the woods Evelina could sing too She had the sweetest voice imaginable and she knew heaps of ballads and when the song was an exciting one she would act it with quick gestures and flashing eyes or when it was sad real tears sprung to them with an almost unnatural swiftness Violet listened and pondered and watched every movement of the face before her and yet with an unconscious distrust still kept the whole freedom of her loving heart uplifted in the balance Fritz, she said one evening suddenly as he and she sat alone in the deep window seat Fritz, tell me this one thing Does thou love Evelina? I like her, replied Fritz quickly I like her too, she is ever so kind to me and she never says a cross word like old Kate but I like Kate better I know, cried Fritz, who was busy peeling a stick and throwing the shavings on the ground She looks in the glass so often and she is always twisting up little girls on her forehead I can see her from the window opposite and once she was smiling and bowing at herself in the glass and she suddenly looked up and saw me and she was such a little fool she ran away with her face covered up with her hands and threw herself down on the bed Still, she is not too nasty added Fritz comfortingly and I like her She tells grand stories and she is awfully good natured Violet listened almost awestruck Fritz was certainly wonderful at guessing and seeing things He knew much better all about Evelina than she did and he was able to explain things so easily She often says yes when she is not listening to one word any of us says and when she leans out of the window and sings She pretends she does not see the people in the street stopping to hear She pretends lots of things That I see well enough cried Fritz waving the newly peeled white stick triumphantly over his head and bringing it down on the cushion with a bang Still, I like her and Ella thinks her simply an angel Violet grew more reassured and when Evelina returned smiling and pretty and with a lovely fresh cake full of currents in her hand for Violet the room seemed quite bright again and Ella coming across the street and up the stairs with great bounce was kept for the evening meal and sat on Evelina's knee all the afternoon happier than any queen End of chapter 15


Welcome to NewsClick. Today I'm marching along with thousands of other women who have congregated in the heart of Delhi to give a very strong message to the Modi government that women on the International Women's Day are actually promising to vote out the Modi government. The reason being that the failure of the Modi government's policies towards women and more importantly the very deeply ingrained idea of Romanical patriarchy that guides the policies and the actions of the government. The day primarily for two things. One, to remind ourselves that women have fought for their rights and of course have gained many a right, have got many a right and to resolve to continue the struggle for democracy, equality, women's rights and women's emancipation. Today's, though so many laws are there for women and children, the main problem is that it is not implemented properly. If the implementation is done properly, we can reduce this kind of violence against women. Now the children are not safe, women are not safe. We feel like some, we feel afraid to travel in Delhi being this capital and all around. In different states the level is different and there are women heads, women who should be celebrated every day, not only today. So that's my message and it has to start from the family, not from the society because the society is actually just deproted. So it has to, the change of mindset has to start from the family itself. Thank you. So there is on the international day of women and the celebration that marks the resistance, multiple women from different quarters of life be it domestic workers, sanitation workers, workers who are involved in sex work as well have come forward to celebrate this day of resistance together. They're also very clearly stating that there is a message being given out to the Modi government that they will vote them out eventually. King along with Rubina who is carrying her child on her back. These are the women who are living in shelter homes in Jamma Masjid in New Delhi in a very small cluster.  They don't have social security, they don't have any employment and they're trying to make do with the small contracts that they get to work in people's houses for a few days. So many women like her are marching today to demand their very rights to social security and dignified life. Today we're particularly here, I'm also here with the National Network of Sex Workers. Ayesha is going to speak with me on the stage. Whatever's are going to put our demand forward but how the sex and sexuality also needs to be really looked into. We totally understand that we are with everybody and we want everybody with us. It's not just and furthermore I'd like to add that our society also has a lot of stigma against single women and married women or divorced women and so when we talk about women they are multiple other identities who are facing a lot of other different types of stigmatization and that also need to be brought into four. That also need to be discussed. The silence needs to be broken and we all need to come together for their rights. Well on this women's day where we extend our greetings to women all over the world in India we remember the origins of women's day which was really based in the struggle of working-class women for a strong resistance to the kind of exploitation that they faced and I think today in 2019 when Indian women are facing such a huge conservative backlash because of the environment created by the BJP RSS's dominant ideology which sees women in a very stereotypical way and particularly working women they look down on working women because they feel that working women are not fulfilling their real role as mothers as sisters as subordinate to men and they are breaking tradition by going out to work and ruining the ideal Hindu family. So I think it is very essential that we assert the reality of women's autonomy of women's freedom of women's struggles of women's sacrifices which have brought so many women out of the darkness of the kind of Manuwadi societies that the BJP wants us to live in. So today we pledge resist these right-wing forces fight back the assault on our very being by the Hindutva forces and make sure on the coming elections that they voted out of power.