MARY IN PRISON
MARY WAS THEN CARRIED, STILL HALF unconscious, into prison, and laid on the miserable straw which was to be her bed. Here she came to herself by degrees; and as she awoke to the full sense of her misery, to find herself alone in a prison cell, she wept and sobbed as if her heart would break, till, fairly exhausted by the violence of her agony, she sobbed herself to sleep on her wretched couch, and slept for some hours.
When she awoke it was quite dark; she did not at first remember where she was. All that had passed seemed like a frightful dream, till she was roused by feeling the fetters on her wrists. She started up at the horrible remembrance of her bonds, and kneeling on the floor of her cell, she prayed earnestly to God. "O my God!" said she, "to whom can I go? From whom can I hope for help but from Thee? Thou canst hear me from my prison cell; Thou canst see me, when thus left alone by all. O God of all goodness, have mercy on me! Have mercy on my poor old father! O holy and merciful Savior, have compassion on me, and make my innocence manifest to all! Comfort my poor father, O Lord! and deliver him out of this trouble. O have mercy on him, and save him! and if one must suffer, let it be me alone."
At the thought of her father, poor Mary's tears flowed afresh, sobs choked her voice, and she wept until it seemed that she could weep no more.
At length a light appeared in the darkness of her prison cell. The moon rose, and its soft rays shone through the little grated window, and traced a shadow of the grating on the floor of the cell. By this soft light Mary was able to see the four walls of her narrow prison, the coarse bricks of which it was built, the stone table in one corner, the little earthen plate and pitcher of water placed upon it, and the couch of straw on which she had been lying. Sad as this sight was, the gleam of light had comforted Mary; she had been so oppressed by the darkness and solitude. The moon seemed like a well-known friend, and she rejoiced to see its soft beams shining on the floor of her lonely cell.
She thought of the pleasant evenings when she had lain awake in her own little room in her dear cottage home, watching the same lovely light as it played through the branches of the rose-tree that hung round her window, and traced their light foliage in shadow on the white curtains of her little bed. How happy the moonbeams seemed to her then, as they played through the flowers, gently swaying in the wind! But now, through that still grating they looked cold and sad. Still the light was pleasant, and as she gazed at it she wondered if her father were gazing at it too—if the same beams were shining on them both.
While watching the moonlight, Mary thought she felt the perfume of flowers in her cell. She found it came from a little nosegay which she had tied up and fastened in her dress when she went to the castle in the morning. These flowers still retained their sweetness and perfumed the air of the cell. She untied the flowers, and looked at them one by one in the light of the moon.
"Oh!" thought she, "when I was so happy this morning gathering these rosebuds in my garden, and these forget-me-nots in the little brook, who could have believed that in the evening I would be in prison? When I wove the wreath of roses, and tied it round the basket, who could have thought that fetters would be on my hands before night? Nothing is certain, nothing abiding in this world. No one knows how quickly his fate may be changed and no one can foretell that even his innocent actions may not end in misery. How needful it is, then, every day to implore the blessing of God, who alone can preserve us from all the unseen changes which we cannot avoid by any foresight of our own, and who can strengthen and guard us through them!"
Mary wept again as she thought on the sad change that had come over her once happy life; her tears fell upon the flowers, and glittered like dewdrops in the moonbeams. She thought of the refreshing dew, and she said to herself, "He who does not forget the flowers, and who sends them refreshing rain when they are thirsty, will not forget me. O my God, I pray Thee, send comfort into the heart of my poor father and into mine, as Thou sendest the dewdrops into the hearts of the thirsty flowers.
"How well these flowers remind me of my poor father's lessons!" continued Mary to herself. "What a comfort to remember them now! These rosebuds have grown in the midst of thorns; thus do I hope that for me joy will spring up in the midst of suffering. If I had tried to open this rosebud, and to take it from its green covering before its time, I would have spoiled it. Slowly, one by one, the lovely leaves unfold, shedding around their rich perfume. Thus may I hope that God will remove my affliction in His own good time and will make it produce blessings for me. I will try to wait patiently for him.
"These forget-me-nots make me think of Him who made them so beautiful. O my God, enable me always to remember Thee, and do Thou remember me. These little flowers are blue as the heavens above. The hope of heaven will support and console me in my troubles. Here are some delicate sweet peas, with their white-and rose-colored blossoms. The tender stems of this lovely flower would fall to the ground but for the support to which they cling. Thus, O my God, may I cling to Thee, and do Thou enable me to rise above this earth and all its miseries. But it is this sweet mignonette which more than all the others is diffusing this perfume in my prison. Gentle flower! thou refreshest even her whose hand plucked thee from the garden and brought thee to this cold and dismal cell. I will try to resemble thee. I will forgive and pray for those who tore me from my happy home and cast me into prison.
"Here is a fresh green sprig of periwinkle. It resists the winter's frost, and through all the cold season preserves its bright green color, the emblem of hope. God, who preserves this little flower green and fresh in the snow and ice, will also preserve me through the storms of misfortune. Here are some laurel leaves. They remind me now of the immortal crown prepared in heaven for those who suffer patiently on earth—those who suffer with their Master, to whom He has promised that they shall also reign with Him. I can imagine I see this splendid crown of glory, this unfading wreath. Flowers of earth! you are fading like its joys—you wither and die in an hour. But after the fleeting troubles of this life are over, we look for a glory and a happiness that can never fade away."
A dark cloud came over the moon. Mary could see her flowers no longer. The cell became frightfully dark for some time, but the cloud soon passed by, and the moon appeared again in all its beauty. "Thus," thought Mary, "may innocence be obscured for a moment, but sooner or later it will shine forth again. The dark clouds of suspicion have gathered thickly around me, but God will yet dissipate them all, and make my innocence of this crime clear as the noonday."
Mary knelt in her cell and prayed earnestly to God. She then lay down on her couch of straw and repeated to herself some of the many passages of the Bible which were engraved on her memory. Thus occupied, she fell asleep as peacefully as if she were in her own little room.
As she slept she dreamed a pleasant dream. She thought that she was walking by moonlight in a garden she had never seen before. This garden was of surpassing beauty, such as is only seen in dreams, and it appeared to be planted in a lonely desert and surrounded by dark fir trees. The moon seemed brighter than it ever does in waking reality. All at once she saw her father in this enchanting place. He was smiling and happy. Mary rushed in fancy to meet him, threw herself into his arms, and shed tears of joy, which still moistened her cheek when she awoke. It was but a dream, yet she felt comforted.