The Atlantic Monthly, Volume 18, No. 108, October, 1866, page 49 by Various Authors
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rederic had never left home before, since their marriage. Such a happy look as there was on her face!
I crept off to a clump of willows, and from there ran down the hill and across the Little Swamp to the minister's.
They were in the midst of family prayers. All of them started to their feet, asking what had happened. I had just strength enough to gasp out, "You must tell them. I can't. Frederic is drowned,"--and then fell down in a faint.
O what a desolate home is ours! Poor Lucy! Poor heart-broken young thing!
On that same night a strange thing happened here at home. Mammy could not be got off to bed. She was anxious, and would sit up. At length, (this was about midnight,) she leaned her head back, and seemed to fall into a sleep, so quiet that they could scarce hear her breath. Then a beautiful smile spread over her face. Her lips moved, and spoke, as they thought, Frederic's name. She awoke soon after, but has never since that hour been quite herself,--never seemed conscious of Frederic's loss. She speaks of him as of one gone a journey. Some talk of her exertions the night before, of her anxiety, or of a partial stroke. But I think, and shall always think, that Frederic's angel appeared to her, and, in some way, deadened her mind to the dreadful suffering his loss would occasion.
We have sent for Aunt Bethiah. We need her firmness now.
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October 20.--Elinor is in a strange way. I have never seen her either weep, or smile, or work, or read, since that terrible day. I must take back part of that. She does smile, as she sits idle, playing with her fingers,--smiles and moves her lips like--But I cannot bear to write what she is like. I will never believe it. She was in a state of excitement, and this blow has staggered her. But she will recover. God will not deal with us so hardly.
Mr. Colman is away, making his preparations. He surely will not take with him this poor, helpless girl.
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November 7.--O, he was s