Part 6

Meanwhile, Daph went cheerfully and industriously on, providing for the physical wants of the children so dear to her; while Rose, with almost a mother’s love, led them in the way of truth and moulded them by her sweet influence. Little by little she managed to throw an air of refinement about the humble room where they dwelt, and to add many comforts and luxuries to their hitherto simple way of life. She advised Daph as to their plain but tasteful style of dress, and gave to their manners that nameless charm of delicacy and true politeness, which Daph felt herself so unable to describe, or impart.

While Louise grew tall, graceful and attractive, and Charlie’s ruddy face was bright with frank cheerfulness, Rose fancied that Daph’s step waxed feeble, and her figure less straight than in the first days of their acquaintance.

When Rose expressed anxiety about the health of the poor negro, to whom she was really strongly attached, Daph would answer with a smile:

“Daph do be a bit older, Miss Rose; but nebber you fret for her. De great Lord wont take her away yet, she most sure. Nebber you mind Daph; she do be well enough--and oh, so happy!”

The upward glance of the eye of honest Daph, told of the source of her happiness, and the spring of her faithful, conscientious life.

XIV.

The Basket Overturned.

“Good-bye, dears!” said Daph, as she went forth as usual one morning, with her basket on her head.

“Good-bye, Daffy, dear Daffy!” said the young voices, and she was gone.

Those sweet sounds lingered in the ear of the negro, as she walked along the crowded street, unconscious of all around her, and lost in meditation on the many mercies of her lot.

The passers-by noticed her frank, good face, her tidy figure, and snow-white apron; but she seemed to see no one, until, as if struck with sudden frenzy, she gave one leap into the air, exclaiming,

“Is I in a blessed dream!”

The neat cover flew from the passing basket; far and wide rolled the frosted cakes, and little ragged children made merry with the stores of Daph’s cookery. Little did she care. Her arms were thrown round the knees of an astonished lady, and her lips kissed the hand of the tall, pale gentleman at the lady’s side.

“Pull off the crazy woman!” shouted a bystander, stepping forward to suit the action to the word; but Daph had found a protector, in the confidence of whose kindness she would have faced the world.

“My own missus! my massa!” sobbed the poor negro, as she clung to the loved and long-mourned friends who stood before her.

“Is it you, Daph!” they said, as, little less moved than herself, they raised her from her humble position.

“Ise got ’em! Ise got ’em!” she exclaimed. “De childen! Dey’s safe! Ise got ’em! De Lord be praised!”

Who can tell the throb of joy that shook that mother’s heart, or the deep emotion that filled the eyes of the strong man with gushing tears!

They needed not to tell Daph to lead the way to their treasures. On she sped through street and lane, followed by hurrying footsteps and beating hearts.

The small house with the blue shutters was reached, the threshold was crossed! A moment the mother paused, as if to gather strength for the meeting, and then the door was thrown open.

In that simple, neat room, sat the fair Louise, her bit of sewing in her hand, while beside her Charlie bent over the book he was reading aloud to his sister.

The wondering children were clasped in their mother’s arms, and received their father’s loving embrace; while Daph, almost wild with joy, kept repeating, “You’s no more lone orphans, with only poor old Daph to mind you! De Lord be praised! Daph’s work is done. She be ready to go now, when it pleases de Lord Jesus!”

How those parents rejoiced to have their lost ones restored, sound in health, and bearing every evidence of having been trained to habits of neatness, and nurtured in delicacy and refinement! This was joy, indeed; but who shall describe the gladness of the mother when she found her children speaking of the Saviour as a familiar friend, and bearing, however faintly, his image in their hearts! Such joy angels know, when they welcome at the gate of heaven the weary pilgrim of earth, and usher him into the eternal home of the Father!

Daph listened with wondering eyes and grateful heart to the story of their escape, whom she had so long mourned, and whose place she had so striven to fill.

The coachman, who was pledged to murder his master and mistress, relented, and resolved to save them from the ruin with which they were threatened.

Gen. Latourette’s first suspicion of danger was roused by finding that they had been driven in the wrong direction, while he in careless confidence had been chatting with his wife. In the moonlight, he could see the flashing of the waves and hear the murmur of the waters, and jet he knew he was not near his home, but at some less familiar part of the coast.

Calling out hastily to the coachman, the carriage came to a stand; General Latourette became aware that the horses had been cut loose, and he saw the fellow, pistol in hand, seated upon one of them.

In a few hurried words the negro told the danger of the moment, and pointed to a boat at the water-side, which offered to his master and mistress some hope of escape.

Did Mrs. Latourette forget her little ones in that hour of peril? No! She pleaded to go to them, if but to mingle her blood with theirs. The negro assured her they were already sleeping the sleep of death, and implored her to fly with her husband, while yet their lives might be saved.

Thus urged, they entered the little boat, and while the strong arm of the husband sustained the drooping wife, and guided the little skiff over the dark waters, the negro went his way, to show the contents of the rifled trunks as proofs of the crime he had in reality shrunk from committing.

Gen. Latourette and his wife reached a neighboring island in safety; but exiled forever from their own dear home.

Sorrowful, as the childless only can be, the world seemed to them suddenly robbed of its brightness; they could not have borne the trials of their lot, but for the sustaining hand of the Father in Heaven, in whom they had in the days of their prosperity learned to trust.

Several years of foreign travel had in a measure recruited the failing health of Gen. Latourette, and time had calmed the poignant grief of his wife. They had come to New York, hoping once more to have a home of their own, sorrowful though that home must be.

Bereaved and childless no more, with deep thankfulness they praised the God of Heaven for his most unexpected mercies, and devoted themselves anew to His service.

As for Daph, their gratitude to her knew no bounds, and they felt that, for her faithful services, they could find no adequate reward on earth.

XV.

The End.

Gen. Latourette and his wife had once more a home of their own, made bright by the smiles of their affectionate children.

At that home Rose Stuyvesant was received as a loved friend, and made a sharer in the pure joy she had assisted in laying up for the happy parents. There Diedrich Stuyvesant had been welcomed as an honored guest, and there Captain Jones had seen, in the united family, something which gave his kind heart more joy than did the warm expressions of gratitude that were lavished upon him, or the more substantial favors that were bestowed with no stinted hand on the honest sailor. Even Mary Ray and her invalid suffering mother experienced the cheering influence that flowed from that happy home, and felt that, although their lodgers were gone, they had in them still warm and powerful friends. In the midst of this grateful rejoicing was Daph forgotten? No! Among the loved and honored, she was best loved and most cared for. In the neat room assigned to her was clustered every comfort that could smooth the declining years or cheer the humble spirit of the faithful negro. She prized each token of loving remembrance that made that room beautiful in her eyes; but dearest to her was the Bible with the golden clasps, which lay on her table, placed there by her mistress, with words which filled the heart of Daph with tearful joy.

“Where is Daph this morning?” asked Gen. Latourette at the breakfast table; “I did not see her dear old face in the hall, as I came down.”

“She is not awake yet,” said the wife; “I told the children they must not rouse her. She must take her rest; her days of labor are over.”

“God grant that our work may be as well done!” said the father, solemnly.

Later in the day, the children could not be kept from “just looking at dear Daffy, even if she were asleep.”

The family party entered the quiet room.

The sunbeams shone across the floor with cheerful light; but they were dark to the gaze of Daph, for she was beholding the unveiled glory of the Sun of Righteousness. The voice of earthly affection could wake her no more, for she had listened to the welcome of angels, and heard the voice of her Saviour declare, “Well done, thou good and faithful servant, enter thou into the joy of thy Lord!”

TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES:

Text in italics is surrounded by underscores: _italics_.

Obvious typographical errors have been corrected.

Inconsistencies in hyphenation have been standardized.

Some contractions are obviously intentionally separated and have been retained as such from the original, e.g. “shouldn’t” appears as “should n’t.”

End of Project Gutenberg's The Babes in the Basket, by Sarah Schoonmaker Baker