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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d7b82bc --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,4 @@ +*.txt text eol=lf +*.htm text eol=lf +*.html text eol=lf +*.md text eol=lf diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..85af5f9 --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #68677 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/68677) diff --git a/old/68677-0.txt b/old/68677-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 514dbf3..0000000 --- a/old/68677-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,3543 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg eBook of Timid Lucy, by Sarah Schoonmaker Baker - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and -most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms -of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you -will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before -using this eBook. - -Title: Timid Lucy - -Author: Sarah Schoonmaker Baker - -Release Date: August 3, 2022 [eBook #68677] - -Language: English - -Produced by: Al Haines - -*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK TIMID LUCY *** - - - - - - - -[Frontispiece: LUCY AND BRADGET O'BRADY] - - - - - TIMID LUCY - - - by - - Sarah Schoonmaker Baker - - - - "FEAR NOT, LITTLE FLOCK." - - - - LONDON: - JOHN MORGAN, 10, PATERNOSTER ROW. - 1862 - - - - LONDON: - ROBERT K. BURT, PRINTER, - HOLBORN HILL. - - - - - CONTENTS. - - - CHAP. - - I.--The Little Bed-room - II.--The Thunder-shower - III.--The Medicine - IV.--An Announcement - V.--The Arrival - VI.--An Accident - VII.--Sunday Morning - VIII.--Staying at Home - IX.--The King and his Weapons - X.--The Happy Sunday Evening - XI.--Judy M'Grath - XII.--The Visitor - XIII.--Sickness - XIV.--Conclusion - - - - -TIMID LUCY. - - - -CHAPTER I. - -THE LITTLE BED-ROOM. - -Dr. Vale had the prettiest house in all Chatford. It was a tasteful, -white cottage, with a green lawn in front, and tall elm trees about -it. The side windows looked out upon a pleasant orchard, where the -smooth, ripe apples peeped temptingly from their beds of fresh -leaves. At one of these windows there was a neat curtain, that was -looped back one summer evening, while through the open casement there -floated the perfume of the rose bush that had climbed the cottage -wall, until its buds could look in at the upper window. A pretty -sight there was within! the moonlight streamed on the floor, and lit -up as sweet a little bed-room as any fairy could desire. The small -counterpane and bureau-cover were white as snow, on the tiny -work-table there was a vase of fresh flowers, and the miniature -book-case was filled with an interesting collection of nicely-bound -volumes. There was nothing wanting to give the apartment an air of -perfect taste and comfort. - -Did the young owner enjoy that pleasant room? Young she must have -been, for everything, even to the low rocking-chair, was evidently -prepared for the use of some favoured child. - -Presently the door opened, but no one entered. Lucy Vale, the -doctor's youngest daughter, stood timidly without. Surely there was -nothing frightful in that quiet room? yet she did not venture in -until the light was so steady that she could see plainly into its -farthest corners. As soon, as she had locked the door behind her, -she looked into the closet, behind the curtain, under the bed, and -even under the bureau, where nothing thicker than a turtle could -possibly have hidden itself. - -There had not been a robbery in the peaceful village of Chatford in -the memory of the oldest inhabitant, so there was no danger of Lucy's -disturbing any villain in his hiding-place. If she had chanced to -find the thief she seemed so earnestly seeking, she would have been -in a most unfortunate position, as her bed-room door was locked, and, -without any weapon, her feeble arm would have been but poor -protection. - -Children who never go to sleep without hunting for robbers, seldom -think what they would do if they should at last succeed in finding -one, nicely stowed away in a closet. Few thieves are so hardened as -to injure a sleeping child, while the most cowardly might be led to -strike a blow on being suddenly discovered, and placed in danger of -punishment. After all, even if there were thieves in a house, the -safest course for a child would be to go quietly to sleep, and leave -the evil men to steal and depart. - -Lucy Vale did not seem quite satisfied with her first search; again -she furtively glanced about, before she sat down to read the chapter -in the Bible, which she had been taught never to omit at night. Lucy -read her Bible as a duty, not because she loved it, or wished to -learn the will of God, and now she could not fix her attention at all -upon its sacred pages. - -She was hardly seated when a slight sound in the orchard attracted -her notice; she jumped up and ran to the window. All was quiet in -that peaceful scene, save the occasional dropping of the ripe fruit. -The shadows of the leaves quivered in the moonlight in what seemed to -her a mysterious manner; a strange feeling of fear stole over her; -she did not return to the Bible, but having hastily undressed, she -fell upon her knees for her evening prayer. Lucy would have thought -it very wicked to go to sleep without what she called saying her -prayers. In truth it was only _saying_ them, for while she repeated -the solemn words, her thoughts were far away. Sometimes she would -get so busily thinking of other things, that her lips would cease to -move, and she would remain on her knees, buried in thought, for many -minutes. As soon as she remembered why she was kneeling, she would -hurry over the remainder of her prayers and go to bed, quite -satisfied that she had done her duty. - -On this particular evening her prayers were soon over, and she was -quickly in bed, leaving the lamp burning; its light however was of -but little use to her, as she thrust her head under the covering, -hardly leaving space enough to breathe through. - -If Mrs. Maxwell, the housekeeper, had known that Lucy kept her light -burning at night, she would have scolded her severely, for she often -said, "it was flying in the face of nature to try to make night like -day, and for her part she thought it downright wicked to be wasting -oil when everybody was asleep, to say nothing of the danger of fire." - -Dr. Vale had lost his wife when Lucy was just six years old, and -since that time Mrs. Maxwell had been his housekeeper; he trusted -everything to her, and she seemed to take the greatest delight in -being economical, that none of her master's substance might be -wasted. She was not bad-tempered, but she had a stern, harsh manner, -and was easily worried by children, only thinking them good when they -were silent and stirred neither hand nor foot. Lucy seldom came near -her without being blamed for something, or told to sit down and be -quiet. - -The little girl would have been quite lonely had it not been for her -brother Hartwell, who was just two years older than herself. Lucy -was now ten, but Hartwell seemed to think her a very little child, -hardly fit to be his companion, yet he would sometimes permit her to -play with him, and a dearly-bought pleasure it was. Harty, as he was -generally called, was indolent; he could not bear to move about, and -therefore found it very convenient to have Lucy to wait upon him. He -never seemed to have thought his sister might not like running up and -down stairs any better than he did. It was so easy when he wanted -anything to tell Lucy to run for it, that sometimes he kept her -little feet in such constant motion that at night she was quite tired -out. If she ever complained, he told her, girls were made to wait on -boys, and if she could not do such trifles for him she had better go -to her doll-baby and not be about in his way. Lucy loved her -brother, and liked to be near him, so she seldom refused to do what -he asked her, although he often called her disobliging when she had -been trying her best to please him. - -Hartwell was very fond of teasing, and his poor little sister had to -suffer for his amusement. Sometimes he would make her cry, by -telling her that she was so ugly that it was painful to look at her; -at others he would call her a coward, and run after her to put -insects on her neck, or he would jump out from a dark corner and -shout in her ear when she thought herself quite alone. - -As you will conclude, Lucy did not lead a very happy life. Her -father was so constantly occupied that he seldom took his meals with -the family, and sometimes hardly spoke to his little daughter for -days together. She had no one to whom she could talk freely; Mrs. -Maxwell never listened to her, and her brother was so apt to laugh at -what she said, that she did not dare to tell him many things that -troubled her. She was naturally a timid child, but since her -mother's death she had grown so bashful that she could hardly answer -when a stranger spoke to her. Many of her childish fears, which a -kind friend in the beginning could easily have banished, had become -so strong that she lived in perpetual alarm. - - - - -CHAPTER II. - -THE THUNDER-SHOWER. - -About midnight Lucy was roused by a loud clap of thunder. The rain -was dashing in through the open window, and the waning lamp seemed -but a spark amid the almost incessant flashes of lightning. The poor -child trembled with fear, she dared not close the window, and yet the -flying drops almost reached her little bed. She lay in an agony of -terror, thinking that every moment might be her last. The idea of -death was horrible to her: in broad daylight, or when pleasantly -occupied, she could forget that she must die; but any sudden fright -would bring the solemn truth to her mind and fill her with distress. -She had never heard Mrs. Maxwell or Harty speak of being afraid of -death, and dared not mention her fear to them, and with her father -she was so shy, that he knew very little of what was passing in her -mind. - -The many faults of which she had been guilty rose to her mind in that -awful storm, and she resolved if her life were spared never to do -wrong again. After making this resolution she felt a little -comforted, and began to think what could be done about the window. -She got up and took the lamp to go and call some one to her -assistance. But whom should she call? "I will not disturb father," -she said to herself, "he was so very tired last night; Harty will -laugh at me for not doing it myself; and Mrs. Maxwell--I cannot wake -her, she will be so very angry." Thus thinking, she stood -irresolutely in the hall, starting at every flash of lightning, and -afraid either to go forward or return. Just then Mrs. Maxwell opened -her door: "What are you about there?" said she, with an astonished -look at Lucy. - -"Please, ma'am," said the little girl, who was really glad to see a -human face, "will you shut my window?" - -"Why in the name of wonder did not you shut it yourself?" was the -response. Lucy was silent, and they entered the room, together. "A -pretty piece of work!" said the neat housekeeper, holding tip both -hands, as her eyes fell on the soaking carpet. She shut the window -hastily, and then said to Lucy, "Come to my room, for it wouldn't be -safe for any one to sleep in that damp place." - -Lucy was so much afraid of Mrs. Maxwell, that it was quite a trial to -be in the same bod with her; she crept close to the wall, not daring -to go to sleep, lest she should be restless, and wake the stern woman -at her side. She had many serious thoughts that night, and again and -again resolved never more to do wrong. - -Towards morning she had a pleasant nap, from which she was roused by -the morning bell. The sun was shining cheerfully into the room, and -the wild storm of the night seemed like a painful dream. She dressed -herself carefully, and knelt to say her morning prayer, simple words -which she had repeated a thousand times with as little thought as if -they had been without sense or meaning. Those same words, spoken -with earnest sincerity, would have called down a blessing from Him -who loves to listen when children truly pray. Lucy had not forgotten -her resolution to do right, but she trusted in her own feeble efforts. - -A flush of pleasure lit the usually pale face of the little girl as -she saw her father seated at the breakfast-table. She glided into -the chair next him, and hardly ate anything, she was so busily -occupied in watching his plate, and placing all he might need beside -him. Harty, meanwhile, showed his delight in his father's company by -being more talkative than usual. He had taken a long walk in the -fresh morning air, and had many things to tell about what he had -seen. What had interested him most was a tall tree, which the recent -lightning had struck and splintered from the topmost bough to the -root. - -Lucy shuddered as the conversation brought the painful scene of the -night afresh to her mind. It revived Mrs. Maxwell's memory also, for -she turned to Lucy with a stern look, and said, "How came you with a -light last night?" - -Lucy blushed, and hastily answered, "I forgot to put it out when I -went to bed." - -"Careless child!" was Mrs. Maxwell's only reply; but nothing that she -could have said would have made Lucy more unhappy than the fault she -had just committed. What would she not have given, a few moments -after, to recall those false words; but they had been spoken, and -recorded in the book of God! - -During breakfast Dr. Vale looked anxiously many times at the little -girl at his side. There was nothing of cheerful childhood in her -appearance; her slender figure was slightly bent, and her small face -was pale and thin; her eyes were cast down, and she only occasionally -looked up timidly from under the long lashes. Her little mouth was -closed too tightly, and her whole expression was so sad and subdued, -that he was truly troubled about it. It was plain to any one who -looked at her that she was not happy. - -The doctor dearly loved his children. Harty he could understand, but -Lucy was a mystery to him. He felt certain that she loved him, for -she never disobeyed him, and when he was with her she was sure to -nestle at his side, and take his hand in hers; but she seldom talked -to him, and was growing daily more silent and shy. - -"Something must be done for her," he inwardly said. His thoughts -were interrupted by Harty's calling out, "Why don't you eat -something, Lucy? There, let me butter the baby some bread." Rude as -this remark seemed, it was meant in kindness. - -"I don't want anything, Harty," answered the sister. "Nonsense!" -said he; "you are thin enough already: one of the boys asked me the -other day, if my sister fed on broom-splinters, for she looked like -one;" and the thoughtless boy gave a loud laugh. - -It would have been much better for Lucy if she could have laughed -too, but the tears filled her eyes, and she pettishly replied, "I -should not care what I was, if it was only something that could not -be laughed at." - -At this Harty only shouted the louder. "Hush, Harty," said Dr. Vale; -"for shame, to tease your sister. Don't mind him, Lucy," and he drew -his arm tenderly around her. She laid her head on his lap, and cried -bitterly. This kindness from her father would usually have made her -quite happy, but now the falsehood she had first uttered made her -feel so guilty that she could not bear his gentle manner. She longed -to tell him all--her fault of the morning, her terror of the night -before--all she had thought and suffered for so many weary days; but -her lips would not move, and she only continued to sob. A ring at -the bell called the father away, or she might have gained courage to -open her heart to him. If Lucy could have been more with him, she -would have found a friend who would have listened to all her little -trials, and given her the truest consolation and advice. It was a -source of sorrow to Dr. Vale that he could be so little with his -family, and on this particular morning he felt it with unusual force. - -"My little daughter is going on badly," he said to himself, as he -entered his chaise, to make his round of visits. "The child is -losing all her spirits; she needs a different companion from Harty; -he is too boisterous, too much of a tease for my little flower. Mrs. -Maxwell is not the person to make a child cheerful; I must have Rosa -at home." The doctor was prompt to act when he had fixed upon a -plan, and that day a letter was written to his eldest daughter, -recalling her home. For three years before her mother's death, and -since that time, Rosa had been under the care of her uncle, the Rev. -Mr. Gillette. This gentleman had been obliged by ill-health to give -up the exercise of his holy profession, but he did not cease to -devote himself to his Master's cause. He received a few young ladies -into his family, whose education he conducted with all the -earnestness of a father. His chief aim was to lead his pupils in the -pleasant paths of virtue, and make them to know and love the Lord. -Rosa, as the child of his departed sister, had been peculiarly dear -to him; he had spared no pains in moulding her character, and was now -beginning to see the fruits of his labour in the daily improvement of -his attractive niece. To Rosa, then, whom we shall soon know better, -the doctor's letter was immediately sent. - -Lucy, meanwhile, had no idea of the change that was soon to take -place in her home. She passed a sad day, for the remembrance of the -untruth she had spoken hung about her like a dark cloud. She had -been taught that a lie was hateful to God, and sure to bring -punishment. Mrs. Maxwell had made it a part of her duty to hear Lucy -recite the Catechism every Sunday. These were trying times to the -little girl, for the eye of the questioner was constantly fixed upon -her; and if she failed or faltered in one of the long answers, she -was sent to her room to study there until she could go through the -part without hesitation. Mrs. Maxwell generally closed the Sunday -evening exercise by telling Lucy how dreadful a thing it was to be a -bad child, and that God saw her every moment, and would punish every -wicked act she committed. From these conversations Lucy would go -away in tears, resolved never to do wrong again; but these -resolutions soon passed from her mind, until recalled by some fright -or by the lesson of the next Sunday evening. - -She only thought of God as an awful Judge, who would take delight in -punishing her, and was far happier when she could forget Him. - - - - -CHAPTER III. - -THE MEDICINE. - -The morning light streamed pleasantly into Lucy's pretty room, and -there was the little girl quite dressed, and moving about as busily -as Mrs. Maxwell herself. She had been up since the dew-drops began -to sparkle in the sunlight. She could not make up her mind to -confess her fault to her father or Mrs. Maxwell, but she was -determined to be so very good as to quite make up for it. In the -first place, she would put her room in order; that would please Mrs. -Maxwell. - -With a tremendous effort she turned her little bed, and then spread -up the clothes with the greatest care. It was her first attempt in -that way, and not very successful, but she was quite satisfied with -it, and walked about surveying it as if it had been a masterpiece of -housewifery. - -The doctor was again at the breakfast-table, and he was pleased to -see his little daughter looking so much more cheerful. Harty, as -usual, was in excellent spirits; but his father's rebuke was still -fresh in his mind, and he refrained from teasing his sister, and -contented himself with telling funny stories about school -occurrences, until even Mrs. Maxwell was forced to laugh. - -As they rose from the table, Dr. Vale handed Lucy a small parcel, -saying, "Take good care of this, my dear, and leave it at Mrs. -Tappan's on your way to school; it is some medicine for her, which -she will need at ten o'clock. I have a long ride to take in another -direction, so good morning, my little mouse." Having kissed her -affectionately, he jumped into his chaise, and was soon out of sight. - -Lucy was unusually happy when she started for school; Harty had not -teased her, Mrs. Maxwell had not found fault with her, and her father -had trusted her with something to do for him. - -The summer sky was clear above her, and her feet made not a sound as -she tripped over the soft grass. The wild rose bushes offered her a -sweet bouquet, and she plucked a cluster of buds as she passed. In -the pleasure of that bright morning, Lucy forgot her good -resolutions. She did not think of her kind Heavenly Father while -enjoying His beautiful world. Fear alone brought Him to her mind: -she remembered Him in the storm, but forgot Him in the sunshine. - -Lucy was soon at Mrs. Tappan's gate, and was raising the latch, when -the large house-dog came down the walk and stood directly in the way. -She thought he looked very fierce, and did not dare to pass him. She -walked on a short distance and then came back, hoping he would be -gone; but no, he had not moved an inch. While she was doubting what -to do, the school-bell rang; thrusting the parcel into her pocket, -she hurried on, saying to herself, "As it is so late, I am sure -father will not blame me." - -She was hardly seated in school, however, before she began to be -troubled about what she had done. "Perhaps Mrs. Tappan was very -ill," she thought; the shutters were all closed, and her father had -called there twice the day before, and had already seen her that -morning. With such thoughts in her mind, of course Lucy did not -learn her lesson; although she held the book in her hand, and seemed -to have her eyes fixed upon it. When she was called up to recite, -she blundered, hesitated, and utterly failed. The tears now filled -her eyes. Glancing at the clock, she saw that it yet wanted a -quarter of ten. - -"Please, Miss Parker, may I go home?" she asked. - -"Are you unwell?" asked the teacher, kindly. - -"No," murmured Lucy. - -"Then go to your seat," said Miss Parker, a little sternly; "and -never ask me again to let you go home unless you have a good reason." - -"I wouldn't mind her, she's as cross as she can be," whispered Julia -Staples, as she took her seat at Lucy's side. - -Lucy knew Miss Parker was not cross, yet she felt a little comforted -by Julia's seeming interested in her trouble, and placed her hand in -hers under the desk, as if to thank her new friend; for Julia Staples -had seldom spoken to her before. - -Wearily the hours of school passed away. At last the clock struck -one, and the children were dismissed. Lucy was hurrying off, when -Julia Staples called after her to wait, for she was going that way. -Lucy did not like to be disobliging, and therefore stood still until -her companion was quite ready. - -"I hate school, don't you?" said Julia, as they walked along. - -Now Lucy did not hate school, she generally found it very pleasant; -but she thought it would seem childish to say so to a large girl like -Julia Staples; so she answered, rather awkwardly, "Yes, I did not -like it to-day." - -"I can't bear Miss Parker," continued Julia, "she's so partial; I -know you don't like her, from the way you looked at her this morning." - -Lucy did like Miss Parker, for she had often drawn the little girl to -her side, and spoken very tenderly to her, more tenderly than any one -had done since her own mother's death, and she was therefore glad -that they came that moment to the road which led to Julia's home, for -there they must part. - -"Good morning," said Julia, not waiting for an answer; "I shall call -for you to-morrow," and Lucy went on her way alone. She had been -almost led to speak unkindly of a person she really loved, because -she was afraid to say boldly what was in her mind. - -As she came in sight of Mrs. Tappan's quiet house, she saw her father -coming out of the gate, looking thoughtfully on the ground. He did -not see her, and she had to run very fast to overtake him before he -got into his chaise. - -"Father! dear father!" she said, "do stop a minute; is Mrs. Tappan -very ill? Do not be angry with me, here is the medicine." - -The doctor looked quite serious while Lucy told him of her fright in -the morning, and her sorrow after she reached school at not having -delivered the medicine. The dreaded dog was standing within the gate -while they were talking without; the doctor called him and made Lucy -look into his mild eye and pat him gently. "You see, my dear," said -the father, as the hand of the little girl rested on the head of the -quiet animal, "that you need not have been afraid of Rover. You -should have remembered that in not delivering the medicine you might -be doing more harm to another than the dog would have done to you. -Even after you were at school, all might have been well if you had -had the courage to tell the whole truth to your teacher; she would -certainly have excused you. I cannot say what will be the -consequence of your foolish timidity. Mrs. Tappan is very ill!" - -As her father spoke these words, Lucy's tears fell fast. Not another -syllable was spoken until they reached home. Harty came out to meet -them, calling out to his sister, "Are those red eyes the sign of bad -lessons?" She made him no reply, but hastened to her room to think -on her own folly, and poor Mrs. Tappan. - -It was a long afternoon to the little girl; her dinner was sent to -her, and she remained alone until dark. This was the day which had -commenced so pleasantly, and in which Lucy had intended to please -everybody. Alas! the poor child had not asked God's help to enable -her to do her duty, nor had she been faithful in her own exertions. - -When the tea-bell rang, she hastened down stairs, hoping to hear from -her father good news about Mrs. Tappan, but he did not appear. Harty -seeing his sister look so unhappy, forbore to tease her, and the meal -passed over in silence. Eight o'clock came, and Mrs. Maxwell gave -Lucy her light, and told her to go to bed. She did not dare to ask -to sit up a little longer, for she knew the request would not be -granted. Feeling like a criminal, the little girl went to her -room--that pretty room, how many unhappy hours she had passed there! -but none more wretched than on that evening. - -In vain she tried to sleep. Whenever she closed her eyes, the form -of the sick woman would rise before her, and she could almost fancy -she heard her groans. Nine o'clock struck, and ten, yet Lucy was -awake. About eleven she heard the street-door open; then there was a -careful step upon the stairs, and some one moved towards the doctor's -room. She was out of bed in an instant, and hastening towards the -door. It was locked as usual, and before she could open it, her -father had passed. She almost flew along the passage, and sought his -arm as he was entering his room. He clasped her to his breast and -kissed her tenderly, saying at the same time, what she so much wished -to hear, "Thank God, Mrs. Tappan is out of danger. You ought to be -very grateful," he continued, "my dear child, that your fault has led -to no evil; I trust that this will teach you not to let childish -fears lead you to neglect your duty!" Much relieved she returned to -her own room, but no thanks were uplifted from her young heart to Him -who had been pleased to spare the stroke of death. - - - - -CHAPTER IV. - -AN ANNOUNCEMENT. - -All the family at the cottage were awake at sunrise the next morning, -and there was an unusual bustle throughout the house. Mrs. Maxwell -was flying about with a duster in her hand, giving her orders to the -servants, and working twice as busily as any of them. The large room -opposite to Lucy's was open, and being put in thorough order. This -room had been occupied by Lucy's mother during her illness, and had -been kept closed since her death. It had always seemed a gloomy -place to the little girl; she had peeped in when the door chanced to -be open to air the apartment. Now it was undergoing an entire -change; the shutters, so long fastened, were thrown back, and muslin -curtains fluttered in the morning breeze; neat covers had been placed -on the dark bureau and table; and on the latter Mrs. Maxwell was -placing a large India work-box that had belonged to Mrs. Vale, and -which Lucy had not seen since she was a very little child. - -Before going down to breakfast, she stepped in to see the pleasant -change more closely; she was startled by meeting a mild glance from a -sweet face on the wall. It was her mamma's portrait that looked thus -gently upon her, and she almost expected the kind face to bend down -to kiss her, as it had been wont to do when that dear mamma was -alive. Lucy had never seen this picture before, and she could not -help wondering where it had come from, and why it was placed there, -where none of the family could see it. Indeed, she was thoroughly -puzzled to understand what could be the cause of all this commotion -in the usually quiet house. - -Mrs. Maxwell poured out coffee in silence, and Lucy asked no -questions; but before they rose from the table, Harty came bounding -into the room, crying, "Guess who is coming here, Lucy." - -"Isn't it cousin Jack?" asked Lucy, almost sighing to think what a -life she should lead with the two boys to tease her. - -"Guess again," said Harty; and she did guess all the aunts, cousins, -and friends that had ever been to make them a visit, but in vain. -When Harty had enjoyed her curiosity long enough, he said, "Well, -Miss Mouse" (a name he often called her), "sister Rosa is coming home -to live, and she is to tell us what to do, and be like a little -mother for us! That's what father told me." - -Lucy did not know whether to be glad or sorry at this news; she had -not seen her sister for many years, and perhaps she might be afraid -of her, and perhaps Rosa might not care for such a little girl as -herself, even younger than Harty. - -The excited boy was in a state of great delight, and he talked to -Lucy until she quite entered into his feelings. "Won't it be nice," -he said, "to have Rosa at home? I shall offer her my arm when she -goes to church, and lead you with the other hand. I shall lend her -my 'Swiss Family Robinson;' I mean to put it in her room, that she -may read it whenever she pleases. But she need not attempt to make -me mind her, for I sha'n't do it; I am not going to have any girl set -over me!" - -"Oh, fie! Harty!" said Lucy, "to speak so of sister Rosa before you -have seen her." - -"Before I have seen her!" repeated Harty; "I remember her perfectly; -I have not forgotten how I used to play--she was my horse--and drive -her round the house; you were only a little baby then." - -"Not so very little," answered Lucy, pettishly, for her brother had -made her feel as if it were a disgrace to be young. - -While they were talking, Julia Staples called to walk with her to -school. Lucy soon told her all about her sister's expected return. - -"I should not think you would like it!" said Julia; "she'll want the -nicest of everything for herself, and make you wait on her, as if you -were her servant." - -Before they reached the school-house, Lucy was quite sure that Rosa's -coming would make her unhappy. Julia Staples had been talking with -little thought, but she had roused evil feelings in Lucy's mind which -were strangers there. She was not naturally envious, but now her -heart burned at the idea that her sister would always be praised, and -go out with her father, while she would be left at home with no one -to care for her. Children do not think enough of the harm they may -do each other by idle conversation. Julia might have encouraged Lucy -in feeling kindly towards her expected sister, and have made her look -forward to the meeting with pleasure; but she filled her mind with -wicked, envious thoughts. - -Do my young friends ever think whether they have roused wrong -feelings in their companions? Two children can hardly talk together -for half an hour without having some influence over each other, for -good or for evil. The wrong thought that you have planted in the -heart of a child may strengthen, and lead her to do some very wicked -thing when you have forgotten the conversation. - -A traveller once took some seeds of a very valuable plant with him on -a journey. From time to time he cast them in the fields as he -passed, and when he was far away they sprang up and were a great -blessing to the people who owned the fields. A wicked traveller -might have scattered the seeds of poisonous plants, which would have -grown up to bring sickness and death to all who partook of them. Our -life is like a journey, and whenever we talk with the people around -us, we cast some seeds in their hearts, those which may spring up to -bless them, or those which may cause them sin and sorrow. - - - - -CHAPTER V. - -THE ARRIVAL. - -"Your sister is to be here at ten o'clock, and you must be ready to -receive her," said Mrs. Maxwell to Lucy, a few days after the -occurrences related in the last chapter. - -"Shall I put on my white frock?" asked Lucy. - -"Nonsense! child," was the reply; "isn't your sister to see you every -day, from morning to night, in whatever you happen to have on? Go, -get a clean apron, and make your hair smooth, that is all the -dressing that little girls need." - -This idea did not suit Lucy, for she was very anxious that her sister -should love her, and she thought if she were prettily dressed at -first, she would be more likely to do so. As she looked in the glass -while arranging her hair, she thought she never had seemed quite so -ugly. The fact was, she was beginning to have a fretful expression, -which was spoiling her face. Lucy had never heard that scowls must -in time become wrinkles. She was not at all pleased with her simple -appearance, but there seemed no way for her to wear any ornament, not -even a hair ribbon, for her soft light curls were cut so closely, -that they could only lie like her waxen doll's, in golden rings about -her head. - -Lucy was fond of dress, and she would have liked to wear jewellery to -school, as many of the scholars did, but Mrs. Maxwell never allowed -it. The little girl had a bracelet of her mother's hair, and this -she, one morning, clasped on her arm under her apron, to be worn on -the outside after she reached school, where Mrs. Maxwell could not -see it. As she stopped on the road to change it, there came a sudden -pang into her heart--she was deceiving, and with the gift of her dead -mother; perhaps that dear mother could see her now, she thought; and -hastily putting down her sleeve, she hurried to school. - -Though the bracelet was not displayed, and no one around her knew -that she wore it, she felt guilty and unhappy until it was restored -to the box in which it was usually kept. The remembrance of that day -checked her this morning, as she was about to place on her slender -finger a ring which had been her mother's, and in her child-like -dress, she went down to wait for her sister. - -She found Harty at the front window, but by no means in a fit -condition to give Rosa a welcome, for his face had not been washed -since breakfast, and his dark curls were, as usual, in wild confusion. - -"Here comes Miss Prim!" he shouted, as Lucy entered, "as neat as a -new pin. For my part, I don't intend to dress up for Rosa; she'll -have to see me this way, and she may as well get used to it at once. -I do wish she'd come, I am tired of waiting; the clock struck ten -five minutes ago. Hurrah! there's the carriage!" he cried, and was -out of the room in an instant. - -Lucy longed to follow, but she seemed fastened to her chair; there -she sat, looking anxiously out of the window, as the carriage entered -the yard and drove up to the door. - -Her father got out first, and then gave his hand to a tall, slender -girl, who sprang with one leap to the stops, and was locked in -Harty's rough embrace. - -"But where is little Lucy?" she asked, when Harty had ceased to -smother her with kisses. - -The voice was kind and cheerful, and Lucy stepped forward, hanging -her head, and timidly putting out her hand. - -Rosa overlooked the little hand, and clasped the bashful child -tenderly in her arms. - -Tears came in Lucy's eyes, she could not tell why--not because she -was unhappy, for she felt sure she should love her sister. - -"God bless you, my children!" said Dr. Vale, "may you be happy -together. Rosa, you must be a second mother to our little one. -Lucy, show your sister her room; I must leave you now; I must not -neglect my patients, even to enjoy seeing my children once more -together." So saying, he drove from the door. - -Rosa's room had no gloomy associations to her, for she had not been -at home at the time of her mother's death, and she only remembered it -as the spot where she had enjoyed much sweet conversation with that -dear mother, now, she trusted, a saint in heaven. - -As her eyes fell on the truthful picture of that lost friend, they -were dimmed by natural tears, which were soon wiped away, for why -should she weep for one whose pure spirit was at rest? - -Rosa was a Christian; not that she never did wrong, but it was her -chief wish to do right. She had just been confirmed, and felt most -anxious to do something to serve the Saviour, whose follower she had -professed herself to be. When she received her father's letter -recalling her home, she found it hard to obey, for she had been so -long at her uncle's, that it was a severe trial to leave his family -circle, and to lose his advice, which she knew she should so much -need, to keep her true to the promises which she had now taken upon -herself. Mr. Gillette, with gentle firmness, pointed out to his -niece that it was her plain duty to return unhesitatingly to her -father's house. - -"You wish, dear Rosa," he said, "to be a true follower of the -Saviour, and to do something for His cause. Go home to your brother -and sister, strive by example and kind advice to lead their young -hearts to Him who will repay all their love. But be careful, my -child, while you are striving for the good of others, not to neglect -your own character. Be yourself all that you wish to make them!" - -Rosa had returned with a true desire to be of service to Lucy and -Harty, and she had many plans for their welfare. Just now she longed -to be alone for a few moments, that she might thank her Heavenly -Father for His protecting care during the journey, and ask His -blessing on her new home. - -Her first impulse was to send the children away, but she checked it, -and made them quite happy by allowing them to assist her in -unpacking. Lucy handled everything very carefully, but Harty made -Rosa tremble, by his way of tumbling over her collars and ribbons. - -At last, all was unpacked but the little box of books, which Harty -insisted on opening himself. "Run, get my hatchet," he said to Lucy, -who willingly brought it. - -"This is too small to work with," said the eager boy, after a few -moments' exertion, "get me the large hatchet, Lucy." - -Lucy again obeyed; but her brother spoke not a word of thanks when -she came back, breathless with running. This rudeness did not escape -Rosa, although she hoped it was only occasioned by her brother's -anxiety to oblige her, and was not his usual manner. - -The obstinate nails at last came out, and all the party sat down on -the floor, and began taking out the books. Harty looked at the -titles one after the other, and threw them aside with disappointment; -at length he said, impatiently, "Are they all as sober as sermons? I -should think you were going to be a parson, Rosa." - -"Not exactly!" said she, with a merry laugh, "but you must not be -surprised if I preach a little sometimes. Then you don't like my -books; I am sorry for that, but I hope we shall have a great deal of -pleasure in reading them together, by-and-by." - -"Not I," answered Harty; "I like stories about shipwrecks and great -soldiers, and strange and wonderful things." - -"Then here is a book which ought to please you," said Rosa, laying -her hands on the beautiful Bible which had been Mr. Gillette's -parting gift. "Do you not love to read it?" - -Harty hung his head, and answered, "There are no nice stories in the -Bible." - -"No nice stories in the Bible!" said Rosa. She turned the leaves -rapidly, and began to read the story of Gideon. At first, Harty -looked very indifferent; but she read in a clear voice, and animated -manner, and by degrees he dropped the books which lay on his lap, and -leaned his head on his hands, in rapt attention. When she came to -the attack on the camp of the Midianites, he was ready to join the -shout, "The sword of the Lord and of Gideon!" - -"Where is it? where is it?" asked Harty, when Rosa had finished, "I -want to look at it myself." - -She pointed to the place, and promised to find him many more -interesting stories, that they could read together. - -Lucy meanwhile had crept close to Rosa's side, and laid her hand upon -her lap. "And there is something to interest you, too, Lucy," said -Rosa: "here is the Prodigal Son, let me read it to you." - -"Do! do! sister Rosa," said both of the children. She needed no -urging, and read the short and beautiful parable with real feeling. - -Harty felt touched, he knew not why, but with an effort to look -unconcerned, he asked, abruptly, "What does it mean, Rosa?" - -"It teaches us many sweet lessons, dear Harty," answered Rosa; "I -cannot well explain them all to you, but I know that it is to make us -understand that God loves us as the father loved his wandering son. -Did you notice that he knew the Prodigal when he was afar off, and -ran to meet him? So God sees when we wish to do right, though nobody -about us may guess it, and He is ready to welcome us to His love. Is -it not strange that the Holy God should love us so tenderly?" - -Harty looked wearied, and did not reply. Lucy tried to speak, but -she was almost weeping, and her lips would not move. - -"Come, we must not talk any more," said Rosa, cheerfully. "See how -the things are all lying about. Harty, can you take the box away for -me?" - -He started off, with a sense of relief, and Rosa was left alone with -her little sister. She kissed the child gently, and said, "You must -tell me, some time, why those tears come so quickly; I want to know -all that troubles you, and be your friend." - -Lucy only replied by placing her hand in that of her sister. Harty -now returned, and they all went to work busily, and soon arranged the -books on the shelves of the bookcase. - -"Come, Rosa," said Harty, "I want to show you my room, and to take -you down in the orchard;" and he seized her rather forcibly by the -hand. - -The room was still in confusion, and Rosa would have preferred to -stay and see her things nicely put away, but she contented herself -with closing one or two of the drawers, and then followed her eager -brother. Lucy silently went with them, keeping close to her sister's -side, now and then looking half-lovingly, half-wistfully, into Rosa's -cheerful face. - -Harty's room was a curiosity shop, filled with all kinds of odd -things that he had gathered together. Mrs. Maxwell and he had been -for a long time at war about the birds' nests, nuts, shells, stones, -&c., that he was constantly bringing to the house, and leaving about -to her great annoyance. On several occasions she threw away his -carefully collected treasures, and at last, the young gentleman, in -great displeasure, went to his father and asked, "if he might not be -allowed, at least in his own room, to keep anything valuable that he -found in his walks." His father consented, and after that his room -became a perfect museum. Stuffed birds, squirrel-skins, and crooked -sticks were ranged on his mantel-piece, in a kind of order, and the -chest of drawers was covered with similar specimens. - -From time to time, Mrs. Maxwell came herself to dust among them, -though Harty was sure to complain after such visits that his -treasures had been greatly injured. On this particular morning Mrs. -Maxwell had been thoroughly dusting, on account of the expected -arrival, and as Harty entered the room he darted from Rosa, and -carefully taking from the shelf some twigs, with bits of spiders' web -attached to thorn, he angrily exclaimed, "Old Maxwell has been here, -I know! I wish she would let my things alone! the hateful thing! -See here, Rosa, this was a beautiful web, as perfect as it could be; -I brought it only yesterday morning, when it was all strung with -dew-drops, and now look at it! Isn't it enough to make any one -angry?" - -Rosa looked sorrowfully at her brother, and made no reply for a -moment; at length she answered: "Dear Harty, you can find another -spider's web; but angry words once spoken can never be taken back. -Won't you show me what you have here, and forget your trouble?" - -The hasty boy was soon engaged in explaining what all the -queer-looking things were, and why he valued them. In some of them -Rosa was much interested: she had never seen a titmouse's nest -before, and as she took the curious home in her hand, she thought of -the kind Heavenly Father who had taught those little creatures to -build it with such skill, and had watched the nestlings from the time -they left the shell, until they flew lightly away on their fluttering -wings. - -"What can you be thinking about?" said Harty, as she looked earnestly -at the pretty thing. - -"Pleasant thoughts," said Rosa, smiling, as she took from his hand a -huge beetle. - -Lucy wondered to see her sister take what seemed to her such a -frightful thing so calmly in her hand. "There now! I like that!" -shouted Harty, "she handles it like a boy. There's Lucy, she screams -if I put such a thing near her, if it has been dead a month. Isn't -she a goose?" - -Lucy looked anxiously at Rosa, fearing she would say something unkind. - -"Oh! yes, she is a little goose," was the reply, "but such a dear -little goose, that I am sure I shall love her very much. We must -teach her not to be afraid of trifles." - -The timid child clasped Rosa's hand more closely, and inwardly -resolved to try to please her sister in everything. She even touched -with the tip of her finger a snake-skin from which she had always -shrunk before, as she heard Harty and Rosa admiring it, while they -handled it freely. - -Some of the specimens which Harty seemed to think very precious were -uninteresting to Rosa, and some were even disgusting; but she looked -at all, and tried to discover the beauties which Harty so eagerly -pointed out. - -Her uncle had taught her that politeness is a Christian duty, and to -be always shown, even to nearest relatives, and to those younger than -ourselves. - -Harty was delighted, and slapped Rosa on the back in token of his -pleasure. "You are a glorious girl!" said Harty; "why, if that had -been Lucy, she would have cried, and said I always hurt her." - -"You forget," said Rosa, "that Lucy is a delicate little girl; you -cannot play with her as you would with a boy. You must take care of -her, as the knights of old guarded their ladye-love, and handle her -as carefully as you would a bird's nest." - -At this Harty laughed, and Lucy smiled. - -"Now for the orchard," cried Harty; and away he ran, pulling the -girls so rapidly along that they could hardly keep from falling down -stairs. - -A pleasant place was that orchard; the grass was fresh and short, and -some of the branches of the old trees bent almost to the ground. -Under these Harty had placed wooden seats, and there it was his -delight to study. Very little studying he accomplished, though, for -his eye wandered at one moment to a ripe apple on the topmost bough, -and the next to a curious insect that was creeping on the trunk near -him. - -Rosa placed herself on the rustic seat, and looked upward through the -waving branches to the clear blue sky above, and a half smile came -over her face, that Harty did not understand. He did not guess that -the sweet scene was filling the heart of his sister with love to the -great Creator. Nor did Lucy understand her any better; but the -expression on her sister's countenance made her warm with love -towards her. - -Harty soon grew restless, and engaged his companions for a race. -Away they flew over the soft grass, and Rosa was the first to reach -the fence, which had been agreed upon as the goal; Lucy came next, -while Harty, puffing and panting, brought up the rear. - -"I declare that was not fair," he began; "we did not start together." - -"Never mind," said Rosa; "we girls ought to be the fastest runners, -for that is all we can do in danger. Girls run, while boys must -stand and defend themselves and their sisters." - -This view of the case suited Harty, and reconciled him to his defeat; -and they continued chatting amicably in the orchard and piazza until -the bell rang for them to prepare for dinner. As they entered the -house, Mrs. Maxwell met them, and looking sternly at Rosa, she said, -"I hoped you were going to set a good example, Miss Rosa, to these -careless children, but there I found your room all in confusion, -while you were out running races. Your father has reckoned without -his host, if he looks to you to make them particular." - -Rosa knew that it had cost her an effort to leave the room in that -condition, and that she had done so to please her brother. She did -not defend herself, however, for she now saw that it would have been -better to make him wait a few moments. Hastening up stairs, she soon -found a place for everything, and put everything in its place, and as -she did so, she resolved not to let her anxiety to win the affection -of her brother and sister lead her astray. - -Dr. Vale looked very happy, when he sat down to dinner with his -family about him. He was pleased with Rosa's easy, cheerful manner, -and delighted to see Lucy's face lighted with smiles, and Harty doing -his best to act the gentleman. And acting it was, for anything like -politeness was far from being habitual with him. - -When they rose from the table, Dr. Vale led his eldest daughter to -her room, and entering it, closed the door. The doctor walked -towards the portrait, and gazed at it a few moments in silence, then, -turning to Rosa, he said, with some emotion, "You do not, I fear, -remember your mother distinctly, my child. I have had this life-like -image of your mother placed where it will be ever near you, that it -may remind you of the part that you must act to the dear children. -May God bless and assist you in your task: pray earnestly to Him to -watch over you and guide you, and you cannot fail. And now, dearest, -never think me cold nor stern, when I am silent. My professional -cares often weigh so heavily upon me that I notice but little what is -passing around me; but nothing can so absorb my mind as to make me -indifferent to the welfare of my children. Come to me with all that -troubles you, and you shall find a father's heart, though perhaps a -faltering tongue." - -The doctor pressed his daughter to his bosom, kissed her forehead, -and left the room. As soon as he had gone, Rosa fell on her knees to -implore the God of all good to strengthen her for the great task that -was before her, and to enable her to make herself such an example as -the children might safely follow. - - - - -CHAPTER VI. - -AN ACCIDENT. - -In about half an hour there was a gentle tap at Rosa's door. It was -Lucy, who entered timidly, and going towards Rosa, said, blushing, -"Don't mind Mrs. Maxwell, dear; she often speaks in that way to me, -when she don't mean anything." - -"Mind her! No and yes: she will not worry me; but I shall be glad to -have some one to make me remember to be neat at all times. Where's -Harty?" said Rosa. - -"He's getting ready to go to the woods: he wants you to go with him." - -"With all my heart," answered Rosa. "Are we to go now?" - -"Yes, as soon as we can put on our bonnets," said Lucy, as she went -to her room, to get her things. She put on a pair of thin slippers, -although she knew they were to cross a damp meadow, for she could not -make up her mind to wear the thick boots that were so much more -suitable. Lucy had certain articles of dress which it gave her great -pleasure to wear, and these shoes were among the favourites. Many a -cold and sore-throat they had cost her, but her vanity was not -overcome even by such consequences. - -Hand in hand the three children walked merrily along, chatting as -pleasantly as if they had not been parted for years. - -Rosa and Harty declared that they liked to step on the soft meadow, -that it was like a rich carpet that yielded to their feet. Their -shoes were so thick that they did not feel the dampness, and they had -no idea how uncomfortable Lucy was, in her thin slippers, thoroughly -soaked with the moisture. They soon entered the woods, where the -tall trees grew so close together that they almost shut out the -pleasant sunlight. Here Rosa found so much to admire that she was -constantly exclaiming with delight. She had not lived in the country -since her childhood, and there was a charm in everything that met her -eyes. Sometimes she was struck with new beauties, and sometimes she -was reminded of by-gone days. - -"Do you remember, Harty," she said, "how we came here together, when -you were a little bit of a boy, and made a house under that tree for -my doll to lie in? And have you forgotten, when we where gathering -chestnuts just here, and I found I had lost my shawl, and how we -hunted, and found it at last hanging on the fence by the meadow?" - -Harty remembered these and many other occasions when he had enjoyed -rambles with his sister; and they continued calling the past to mind, -until poor Lucy felt quite sad that she knew nothing of what caused -them so much pleasure. She grew silent, and at last withdrew her -hand from Rosa, as she thought, "Yes, it will be as Julia Staples -said, Harty and Rosa will go together, and not care for me." - -The sun was just setting when they drew near home on their return. -They had taken a long walk, but Lucy had not recovered her spirits, -although Rosa, perceiving that she was not happy, had done all in her -power to amuse her. Lucy felt half inclined to laugh and enjoy -herself occasionally, but then the wicked, jealous thought would come -up in her mind, and she grew sober again, and coldly answered her -sister's cheerful remarks. - -They had walked through the woods quite round to the back of the -house, and were almost to the pleasant orchard, when they came to a -wide brook, which they must cross to reach the by-path that led to -the house. A single plank was placed across the stream. Harty ran -gaily over, and went up the hill on the other side without looking -behind him. - -"Let me lead you over," said Rosa, kindly offering her hand to her -little sister. - -"I had rather go by myself," answered Lucy, sullenly, and placed her -foot on the plank. She walked tremblingly on until she was half -over, then the plank shook a little, and she grew frightened, swayed -from side to side, lost her balance, and fell into the brook. - -Lucy's shriek attracted the attention of Harty, who was by this time -some distance up the hill, and he hastened towards her; but she had -scarcely sunk in the water before Rosa had leaped from the bank and -caught her in her arms. - -The stream was rapid, and the fearless girl could hardly have kept -her footing had she not caught hold of the plank above with one hand, -while with the other she carried the half-fainting Lucy. - -They reached the opposite side in safety, and Harty was there to -assist them in climbing the bank. Great tears stood in his eyes, not -from fright for Lucy, but from admiration of Rosa's courage. - -"You are a sister worth having!" were his first words. "How I wish -you were a boy!" - -Poor Lucy, what pain these words gave her! Although she had been in -such danger, Harty only thought of Rosa! - -The true-hearted sister, meanwhile, was lifting her thoughts in -thankfulness to Him who had enabled her to save the life of the child. - -Lucy was too weak to walk home, and Rosa and Harty formed a -lady-chair with their arms, and carried her safely up the hill, Rosa -laughing at their ridiculous appearance in their wet clothing, for -she had plunged into the stream up to her neck. - -"Here we are! all safe and sound!" shouted Harty, as Mrs. Maxwell -came out to meet the strange-looking party. - -"A pretty-looking set you are! Do not come into the house in that -condition!" was Mrs. Maxwell's reply. "Pray where have you been?" -she continued: "I wonder if we are to have such doings all the time." - -Rosa gently but firmly replied, that Lucy had been in great danger, -and she thought she ought to be undressed immediately, and placed in -a warm bed. - -There was something in Rosa's quiet, dignified manner that awed Mrs. -Maxwell: she came forward and took Lucy from their arms without -another word, while Rosa hastened to her room to put herself in order -to wait upon her sister. In a few moments she was neatly dressed, -and standing by Lucy's bedside. - -Dr. Vale had returned, and having heard from Harty an account of the -matter, was soon with his little daughter. He ordered a warm draught -to be administered, and said he did not think she needed any other -medicine, as she seemed not to be really injured, only much agitated -by the fright. - -He kissed the little girl tenderly as he thought how near he had been -to losing his pet, and greatly praised Rosa's promptness and courage -in saving her from the death with which she was threatened. - -Lucy could not thank her sister, for she felt guilty, as she -remembered the unkind, suspicious thoughts that were in her mind when -the accident happened. She shuddered at the idea that she might have -died while her spirit was so unfit to go into the presence of the -holy God. She felt that she had been very wicked, and she could not -believe that God would pardon her. - -"I know I shall be very ill," she said to herself, "because I was so -naughty, and perhaps I shall die, and then nobody would care, and -Harty and Rosa would be just as happy." - -This last thought checked her half-formed resolution to tell her -sister of her wrong feelings; and she turned away from the kind face -that was bending down to her, and said, "I wish you would go away, I -had rather be alone." - -Rosa did go, but only to the door of her own room that was opposite: -there she placed her chair, that she might be near, if Lucy should be -lonely or want anything, little thinking what was in her sister's -heart. - -Lucy lay very still all the evening. Rosa thought she was sleeping, -and did not disturb her. During those long, dark hours, Rosa was not -sad. She had many pleasant thoughts. She liked to be alone, -sometimes, for then she could more fully realize that God was with -her. - -Nine o'clock came, yet Rosa did not like to leave her sister: often -during the evening she had stolen to her side to see if she were -still sleeping. Once she stooped and kissed her; then Lucy longed to -throw her arms around the neck of the kind watcher, and say that she -had not been asleep; but something kept her silent. - -At ten, the doctor came in. Rosa stole softly down stairs and told -him how quiet the little girl had been during the evening. "But, -dear father," she said, "I do not like to leave her alone to-night. -May I not lay her in my bed, where I shall be sure to know if she -wakes, and wants anything?" - -"Certainly, dear," was the father's reply, "and I will carry her -myself, carefully, that she may not wake. She is too heavy for you -to lift, though you did take her so nobly through the water, my -darling." - -The doctor took the little girl gently in his arms; she did not seem -to be awake, but oh! how guilty she felt all the time, to think that -she had cherished harsh feelings towards one who wished to be so kind -to her; and ashamed she felt that she was even then deceiving; but -she had not the courage to open her eyes and say that it was all -pretence. Rosa covered her very carefully, and placed her head -comfortably on the pillow, and then began to move about noiselessly, -preparing for the night. - -Lucy was just closing her eyes, thinking her bed-fellow was about to -lie down beside her, when Rosa threw her wrapper round her, and -taking her small Bible, sat down to read. She did not once raise her -eyes or move, while she was reading, yet Lucy could see that her -expression changed from time to time, as if she was very much -interested. There was a sweet peacefulness on her countenance as she -closed the book, and Lucy resolved to open at the mark the next -morning, that she might read herself what had had so pleasant an -effect. - -She then looked up and saw that Rosa was kneeling, with her eyes -raised, and praying earnestly in a low voice. Lucy was almost -startled, Rosa seemed so really to be speaking to some one, and she -involuntarily looked about to see if there were any one in the room. - -She had been so long accustomed to merely prayers herself, that she -had almost forgotten that prayer is always speaking to God. - -By degrees she rose in the bed and leaned eagerly forward to catch -the words, which were scarcely audible as she lay on the pillow. - -She heard her sister earnestly ask pardon for the sins she had just -been confessing, while she thanked her Heavenly Father with the -confidence of a child for His free forgiveness; and then she prayed, -oh, how earnestly! that God would enable her to watch over her -brother and sister, and lead them to the dear Saviour, the only -source of real happiness, and for whose sake she knew all her -petitions would be granted. Before she rose, she begged to be -enabled to remember that the Saviour was beside her, through the dark -night to preserve her from all harm. - -As Rosa finished her prayer, Lucy sank down in the bed, overcome with -awe. God was really in the room; Rosa had spoken to Him, and seemed -to know that He had heard her. What must His pure eye have seen in -her own heart! how much that was wrong! Could He forgive? In a few -moments the light was extinguished, and Rosa was at her sister's -side. She lay very still at first, that she might not waken the -sleeper, but very soon a little hand was laid in hers, and Lucy -gently whispered, "Dear Rosa, do you really think the Saviour is near -us?" - -Rosa was startled to find her companion awake; but she took the -little hand instantly, and said, "Yes, dear Lucy, He is with us -always." - -"Doesn't it make you afraid," said Lucy, "to think so?" - -"Afraid to think He is near us, dearest! Why, He is our best friend! -Do not you love Him, Lucy?" - -Lucy began to sob, and said, at last, that it always frightened her -to think about such things, and she never did, unless something -reminded her that she must die. - -"My dear little sister," said Rosa, "God loves you: you need not be -afraid of Him, if you really wish to please Him." - -"But I can't please Him, I can't do right," sobbed Lucy. - -"I know you cannot," Rosa replied, "but He will forgive you for -Jesus' sake, and help you, if you ask Him." - -"But I forget all about it," said Lucy. - -"It is very hard to remember at first, that God is always with you, -and you are trying to be His child. I know, dear Lucy, that you must -wish to love and serve the kind Heavenly Father who has done so much -for you: begin to-night; ask Him to make you His child, and to take -care of you." - -Lucy made no answer, but in silence she did as her sister had -advised, and God who seeth all hearts received and answered her -simple petition. - -The few words that Rosa had said, dwelt in her mind. "God loves -you," she thought, again and again, as she lay in her quiet bed; and -when her eyes closed in sleep, it was with the remembrance that the -God who loved her was near to watch over her. - - - - -CHAPTER VII. - -SUNDAY MORNING. - -Sunday morning came, and the sun was fairly risen before either of -the little girls was awake. Rosa was the first to open her eyes: she -would willingly have taken another nap, but the first stanza of a -morning hymn occurred to her mind, and she remembered her resolution -to overcome her laziness. - -As she repeated-- - - "Awake, my soul, and with the sun - Thy daily course of duty run, - Shake off dull sloth, and early rise - To pay thy morning sacrifice," - -she got up very carefully that she might not rouse her sister. "I -will let the child sleep a little longer," she said to herself, "for -she is so pale, I don't believe she is quite well." - -It was a beautiful morning: the fields and orchards were bright with -the sunshine, and the birds seemed singing even more happily than -usual. As soon as Rosa had dressed herself, and finished her usual -devotions, she went down stairs to enjoy the fresh air. As she -walked in the garden, the conversation she had had with Lucy the -evening before passed through her mind. What her uncle had said to -her about being useful to her own family seemed about to be realized. -"Poor little Lucy," she thought: "may God help me to lead the dear -child in the right path." - -Harty heard Rosa's footsteps in the garden, and was soon at her side. -"Here, brother, is something for your museum," was her greeting, and -she pointed to a chrysalis which hung on a low rose-twig by the path. -"Is it not beautiful? Just look at the silver spots!" - -"It is a capital specimen," answered Harty, as he carefully broke the -little branch to which it was fastened: "I wonder what kind of a -butterfly it will be. Rosa!" he added, "I did not think you would -like such things as these." - -"Not like the beautiful things God has made!" exclaimed Rosa. "Why, -I love to look at every little object in nature, and think that our -Heavenly Father planned it and made it so perfect. It seems easy to -believe that He notices all our little joys and troubles, when wo see -that even the smallest insect is made with such care." - -As Rosa spoke, her eyes sparkled and she looked around her, as if -every object which was in sight was a proof to her of the love of the -kind Creator. Harty made no answer, but looked thoughtfully at the -chrysalis as they entered the house together. - -The breakfast-bell was ringing, and they met Lucy in the hall. She -glanced slyly towards her sister, remembering the conversation of the -evening before. Rosa kissed her cordially, and, hand in hand, they -went to the table. - -"Perhaps Miss Rosa had bettor pour out coffee," said Mrs. Maxwell -stiffly to the doctor, as the children came in. - -"Would you like it, Rosa?" asked her father. - -Rosa saw that Mrs. Maxwell looked displeased, and, in a moment, it -passed through her mind, that perhaps she would not like to give up -the place she had held so long to one so young as herself, and she -quickly said,-- - -"May I put that off a little longer, father? I am afraid I could not -suit you as well as Mrs. Maxwell does; she has made tea for you a -great while." - -"A long time, dear child," said the doctor; and his thoughts went -back to the days when his delicate wife sat opposite him, her sweet -face growing paler each morning, until at last her weak hands could -no longer do their office, and Mrs. Maxwell took her place. - -Rosa knew of what her father must be thinking, and she did not speak -for several minutes. At length she said, "Is old Mr. Packard any -better to-day, father?" - -"I have not seen him yet," was the reply. "I shall have to make a -round of visits this morning," continued the doctor, "so I shall not -have the pleasure of taking my tall daughter to church to-day: I -leave that to Harty." - -Harty looked very proud at the idea of waiting on his sister. Little -Lucy listened in vain to hear something said about her forming one of -the party. She resolved, at least, to get ready, and perhaps no one -would object to her going. - -When they rose from the breakfast-table, Rosa went to her room, -thinking she should have a quiet hour to herself before it was time -to prepare for church; but Lucy and Harty followed her. The rules -had been very strict at Mr. Gillette's: the young ladies seldom, -visited each other in their bed-rooms, and then never entered without -knocking. - -The freedom with which her sister went in and out of her apartment -was already an annoyance to Rosa, and her first impulse was to send -them away, that she might read her Bible alone, as she had intended. -Then her confirmation vow came to her remembrance. She had promised -"to love her neighbour as herself, to do unto others as she would -they should do unto her." Would she like to be sent away from a -person she loved? and was it not a part of her duty to make those -around her happy? Her first impulse was conquered, and she turned -cheerfully to the children, who felt uncomfortable for a moment, they -hardly knew why, and said, "Come, let us sit here by the window; I am -going to read, and you shall listen to me, if you please." - -They looked delighted. Lucy dropped upon a low footstool by her -sister's side, and Harty stood watching eagerly to see what was to be -the chosen book. He seemed disappointed when Rosa took up her little -Bible, and shook his head when she asked him if he would not take the -vacant chair beside her. - -She began to read in the fifth chapter of Mark, "And, behold, there -cometh one of the rulers of the synagogue, Jairus by name; and when -he saw Him [Jesus], he fell at His feet, and besought Him greatly, -saying, My little daughter lieth at the point of death: I pray thee, -come and lay thy hands on her, that she may be healed; and she shall -live." - -Rosa had taken great pains to learn to read properly and pleasantly, -for her uncle had told her that to be an agreeable reader was one way -of being useful. Now her voice was sweet and natural, and she seemed -herself so interested, that Lucy caught her spirit even before the -"little daughter" was mentioned; but at these words her attention was -fixed, and she listened eagerly to hear what was to follow. - -Harty, meanwhile, stood rolling the corner of the neat white curtain -in his hands, which were not particularly clean, and looking -undecidedly about him. When Rosa finished the sentence, he hurried -from the room, saying, "I'm going to see my chickens." - -She glanced at the soiled curtain and then at Harty as he closed the -door: for a moment she looked fretted, but it was only a moment; a -sweet smile took the place of the half-formed frown, and she went on -with the reading. - -Lucy had heard the story before of the raising of the ruler's -daughter, but now it seemed quite new to her, and her eyes were -bright with wonder and pleasure, as her sister closed the book. - -"Rosa," she said, "I should like to have been that little girl!" - -"Why?" said Rosa, - -"Because--because," answered Lucy--"because she must have been so -glad to be alive again. I wonder what she said when they told her -all that had happened." - -"I hope she thanked the land Saviour, and learned to love Him very -dearly." - -"How sorry she must have been that the Saviour could not stay and -live at her home, and take care of her always," said Lucy. - -"Lucy," said Rosa, "the same thing may happen to you as to that -little girl; but after Christ has said to you, Arise, you may live -with Him always." - -Lucy looked half-frightened, and answered, "I don't understand you. -I should have to die first;" and she shuddered at the thought. - -"No; you may have Christ with you always, without dying, but you -cannot see Him. He will take care of you, and you can speak to Him, -and He will do what you ask Him. If you remember that He loves you -and is ever at your side, when you come to die it will seem like -opening your eyes to see the kind Friend who has been so long with -you." - -Lucy's eyes filled with tears, and in her heart she wished that she -loved the Saviour as Rosa did. "I will try and remember that He is -with me," she said to herself; and for the first time the idea was -pleasant to her. Before she had only thought of God as seeing her -when she was doing wrong, and it had always been a very painful -thought to her. - -Many minutes had passed when Lucy started up, saying, "There goes the -church bell; it is time to get ready." - -Rosa and Lucy were quite ready, when Harty came running into the -room, his hair in its usual tumbled state, and his coat dusty and -torn. "Oh! I have had such a chase," he said: "one of my 'bantys' -got out, and I had to jump over the fence and chase him all over the -orchard before I could catch him. And see here, where I tore my coat -putting him back in the coop. Why! you are all ready: is it -church-time?" - -"Yes, indeed," answered Lucy; "and I hate to be late, people all look -at you so." - -"I hate to be late, too," said Harty; "I do like to watch the people -come in." - -"Harty! Harty!" interrupted Rosa; "don't talk so. Make haste and -get ready." - -"Never mind me," said Harty; "you walk on, and I can catch up with -you: it won't take me but a minute to change my coat--these trowsers -will do." - -"But, Harty, you will have to brush your hair and your shoes, and -wash yourself. It would not be respectful to the place where you are -going to enter in such a plight." - -"Pshaw!" said Harty, angrily; "I will not go at all; you can find -your way, with little Lucy to open the door for you." - -Rosa was tempted to leave him, for she, too, disliked to be late at -church, but not for either of the reasons that had been mentioned. -She liked to be in her seat before the service commenced, that she -might have time to collect her thoughts, and be ready to join with -the congregation in the solemn worship of God. - -"My brother ought not to stay at home," she thought: "it will be -better to wait for him, even if we are late." "Come, Harty," said -she, encouragingly, "we will help you, and you will soon be ready." - -Lucy was dispatched to the kitchen for the shoes that had been -cleaned, for Harty's cap, pocket-hankerchief, another clean collar, -&c.; in short, she had so many things to run for, that she stopped on -the landing, so weary that she was glad to take breath. There Mrs. -Maxwell met her, and said, "Take off those things, Lucy Vale; you -ought not to think of going to church after the wetting you got -yesterday. Your father didn't say you might go; I noticed it this -morning." - -"But I am quite well," pleaded Lucy. "I think he would let me go, if -he were at home." - -"But he is not at home. At noon you can ask him. Go now and undress -as fast as you can." Without another word Mrs. Maxwell passed down -stairs. - -Lucy dropped down upon the lowest stop, and began to cry bitterly. - -"Ready at last!" shouted Harty: "now Lucy, my Prayer Book." - -But no Lucy came. Rosa and Harty came towards her, and wore -astonished to see her face wot with tears. - -"What is the matter?" asked Rosa: "have you hurt yourself?" - -"No!" sobbed Lucy; "but Mrs. Maxwell says I must not go to church." - -"Pooh! is that all?" said Harty; "why, you are not always so fond of -church-going!" - -This was true, for Lucy often stayed away from church when Mrs. -Maxwell did not oblige her to go; but on this particular morning she -wanted to go with her sister, whom she was beginning to love very -dearly. - -"But why mustn't you go?" asked Rosa. - -"Because I got in the water yesterday, and Mrs. Maxwell says I am not -well." - -"Never mind, dear," said Rosa, "perhaps father will let you go out -this afternoon. Don't cry any more; we shall not be gone long. -Good-bye." - -Harty was rather glad that Lucy could not go; he never liked to take -Lucy anywhere with him. Perhaps he thought it made him appear more -like a mere boy to have his little sister by his side, or that she -was not fit to associate with so wise a gentleman as himself. - -If his sister Rosa had felt as ungenerously and unkindly to those -younger than herself, she would have at least laughingly refused the -arm which he offered her as they went down the walk. But she took -the arm, although she had to stoop a little in doing so, and talked -with her brother as if he really were the man he was trying to appear. - -As Harty was thus honoured, he looked back triumphantly at poor Lucy, -who was still watching them. A pang of envy shot through the heart -of the little girl. Julia Staples's evil words came to her mind; the -bad seed was springing up. "Rosa and Harty will always be together; -they won't care for me," she thought. But good seed had been sown by -Rosa, and it, too, now sprang up. "God loves me," thought the little -girl; "if I try to please Him I shall be happy." - -She rose and wont into her own pretty room: there she put everything -carefully in its proper place, and felt a new pleasure in doing so; -for it was her duty. - - - - -CHAPTER VIII. - -STAYING AT HOME. - -The house was very still, and as Lucy moved about she was half -startled at the sound of her own footsteps. She went into her -sister's room to sit, for she fancied that it was more pleasant than -her own; and then all Rosa's books were there; perhaps she might like -to look at some of them. - -The Bible was on the table; she took it up. "Rosa, from her Uncle -Gillette," was written on the blank leaf; and before it were several -sentences. They were as follows:--"Remember when you open this book, -that God is with you, that He is speaking to you. Remember to ask -God to bless to you what you read. When you close the book, think -over what you have been reading, and take the first opportunity to -practise it." - -As Lucy read the first sentence, a fooling of awe stole over her; and -she almost trembled to think how often she had carelessly opened the -word of God, and hurried over its sacred pages. Now she reverently -turned to the place where her sister had left the mark the evening -before. The story of the storm on the sea of Galilee caught her eye: -as she read it she felt sure that it must have been that sweet -narrative which had so fixed Rosa's attention when she watched her. - -Lucy repeated, again and again, the words of the blessed Saviour, -"Why are ye so fearful, O ye of little faith?" They seemed addressed -to her by the kind Friend who stilled the tempest, and who, Rosa had -said, would be ever with her to take care of her, if she would love -Him and strive to be truly His child. "I will, I will love Him, and -try to please Him," she said, half-aloud. "I should never be afraid, -if I were sure He would watch over me." - -She took up the Prayer Book, and read the verses with which the -Morning Service commences. Some of them she did not quite -understand; but when she came to "I will arise, and go to my father, -and will say unto him, Father, I have sinned against heaven, and -before thee, and am no more worthy to be called thy son," she was -reminded of the day when her sister had read to her the sweet parable -from which those words are taken, and how she had said that one -purpose of the parable was to show how willing God is to receive all -those who really come to Him. Again her purpose strengthened to be -His child, who could so freely forgive. - -Lucy had been over the same Service almost every Sunday since she had -been able to read, and could now find all the places without -assistance, but she had hardly noticed many parts of it, and to some -she had listened, while they were repeated by others, as if she had -no part in the matter. Now the exhortation, "Dearly beloved -brethren, the Scripture moveth us in sundry places," seemed so direct -and simple, that she wondered she could ever have heard it without -feeling for how important a purpose she had come into the house of -God. - -With a strange feeling of solemnity, she knelt down and began to -repeat the Confession aloud. The words were so simple and natural, -and so true, that she seemed rather to be speaking what had long been -in her heart, than repeating what had been spoken by many voices -around her from Sunday to Sunday, while she thoughtlessly glanced on -the page, or let her mind wander to other things. As she said, "We -have done those things that we ought not to have done," little faults -she had committed, acts known only to herself, came thronging on her -memory. Among these painful recollections was the falsehood she had -told about the light the morning after the thunder-storm. The whole -fearful scene of that night came back to her: again she seemed -standing, trembling and alone, in the passage, while the incessant -lightning appeared to threaten her with instant death. So long she -dwelt on these circumstances, that she quite forgot she was on her -knees, speaking to the mighty God of heaven. Suddenly it flashed -upon her, and she started up, as if she feared He would immediately -punish her for seeming to be praying, while her thoughts were far -away. Lucy had begun to realize that prayer is something more than -merely repeating a form of words. - -The little girl had hardly risen from her knees before there was a -ring at the door. She set off immediately to save Betsy the trouble -of coming up stairs, for the poor old woman suffered much from -rheumatism, and Lucy knew it gave her great pain to move about. "I -will go, Betsy," she called, as she passed the stairway. - -A ragged Irishman was standing at the door. Lucy was almost afraid -to turn the key, lest he should lay hold of her with his hard, rough -hands: she felt inclined to call out to him to go away, as the doctor -was not at home; but she thought of the misery that giving way to her -fear of Mrs. Tappan's dog had cost her, and her father's reproof, and -she resolved that no poor sufferer should go uncared-for because she -was afraid to speak to a man in ragged clothes. - -She threw the door wide open, and was quite relieved when the -Irishman took off his hat, and asked her very respectfully, "Is the -doctor in?" - -"He is not," answered Lucy, promptly: "where shall I tell him to -call?" - -"Sure and it's jist down the lane, forninst Bridget O'Brady's: he -can't miss it, for isn't it the poorest bit of roof in the place? and -tell him to come quick, if you plase, miss." - -The man turned to go away, but Lucy called after him, not at all -satisfied that the direction would be sufficient. "What is your -name?" she asked; "I want to put it down on the slate for my father." - -"It's Owen M'Grath, plase you; and don't be afther stopping me, for -who will be minding the baby, and the mother so sick, while I am jist -talking here?" So saying, he hurried from the door. - -Lucy had very little idea how the name was to be spelt, but she put -it down as well as she could, the direction and all, and looked at it -quite proudly when it was done. It was neatly written, but oh, the -spelling! - -"Who was that, Miss Lucy?" called Betsy. - -"An Irishman with a queer name: he says he lives by Bridget -O'Brady's," was the reply. - -"Oh! dreadful!" shouted Betsy. "Why, Miss Lucy, they've got the -small-pox in all them dirty little houses; you've ketched it for -certain. Go, take off every rag of clothes you've got on, and throw -them into the tub there in the yard: I don't know who'll wash 'em. I -am sure I should not want to touch 'em with a broomstick." - -Poor Lucy, pale and trembling, ran up stairs and did as Betsy had -advised. Even in the midst of her fright she could not help thinking -that she was glad it was her calico, not the favourite silk, that she -happened to have on, since she must thrust it into the water, to lie -there till some one should dare to remove it. - -The happy birds were still singing about the pretty cottage, and the -trees were waving in the sunshine, but Lucy did not see them; her -hands were pressed tightly over her eyes, and she rocked to and fro, -thinking of all the horrible stories she had heard about the disease -which Betsy said she had "ketched for certain." - -"I shall be very ill," she thought, "and who will dare to nurse me? -Perhaps I shall die; and if I get well, my face will be all marked, -so that nobody will like to look at me. I wonder if Rosa would be -afraid to sit by my bed, if nobody else would stay with me. I should -hate to see her face all pitted. How badly I should feel if she -should take the small-pox from me. Perhaps I shall give it to her if -I see her now." At this last thought, Lucy ran into her own little -room. There she sat sobbing until church was out. She forgot that -there was a Friend with her, in that quiet room, who could have given -her comfort, if she had called on Him in her trouble. - - - - -CHAPTER IX. - -THE KING AND HIS WEAPONS. - -Rosa and Harty were scarcely out of the church door before he began, -"Oh! Rosa, did you see how grand Madam Maxwell looked, when she -moved for you to take the end of the pew? It was as much as to say, -'I suppose, little miss, you think you ought to sit here, but you are -very presuming.' I would have taken it if I had been in your place. -It made me mad to see her settle herself so satisfied, when you -refused." - -"Fie, Harty!" answered Rosa; "Mrs. Maxwell is a great deal older than -I am, and it is far more suitable that she should have the most -comfortable seat. I should be sorry if my coming home interfered -with her in any way. She has been most faithful in taking charge of -the house since--since--" since our dear mother died, Rosa would have -added, but her eyes filled and her voice failed her. The familiar -scene in the church had brought her lost mother freshly before her, -and she well remembered when they last trod that same path together. - -After a few moments she recovered herself, and said, "When I last -passed this spot, Harty, our dear mother was with me. She had been -talking very sweetly to me, as we walked, of the blessing we had in -being able to go out that pleasant morning, and worship God with His -people, while so many poor invalids must remain at home, and even -dear father could not be with us. Just here, I asked her a question -which had long been in my mind. I had always noticed that as soon as -she entered the pew, she knelt down for a few minutes. I wondered -what that was for, as I could not find anything about it in the -Prayer Book. 'Mother,' said I, 'what do you say when you kneel down -before church begins?' 'I make a short prayer,' she answered, 'that -I may remember that I am in God's house, and that He will teach me to -worship Him aright. Many people,' she continued, 'who come early to -church, quite forget that they are in the house of God as much before -the service begins as afterwards, and spend the time until the -clergyman comes in, in looking about and observing their neighbours, -until their minds are quite unfit to join in any solemn duty. I -think the habit of asking the blessing of God on the prayers you are -about to offer, and the truths you are about to hear, is a great help -in reminding you immediately that you are with the Lord in His holy -temple.' 'Won't you teach me a little prayer to say, that I may do -as you do?' I asked. 'Yes, darling,' she answered, with one of her -sweet, loving smiles; and as we walked by this hedge, which was just -planted then, she taught me these words, which I have said, many, -many times since our dear mother was taken by her Heavenly Father to -a better world:-- - -"'Lord, make me remember that I am in Thy house. Keep me from -dullness and wandering thoughts. Hear my prayers to-day, and bless -to my soul the truths I shall hear, for Jesus Christ's sake. Amen.'" - -Harty listened with interest to every word that Rosa tittered: he -often wanted to hear some one talk of his mother, but it was too sad -a subject for his father to speak freely upon, and Lucy could hardly -remember her. - -Rosa gladly perceived that he was interested, and added, "I will -write out the little prayer for you, Harty; I know you will like to -keep it, and use it, for our dear mother's sake." - -Harty looked embarrassed, but he did not refuse his sister's offer. -She immediately changed the subject by saying, "Poor little Lucy will -be glad to see us by this time. I hope she can go out this -afternoon. I like to have her with us." - -Harty wondered that Rosa should wish for the society of such a child -as Lucy; but his respect for her involuntarily rose when he found -that Rosa spoke affectionately of her. - -As they drew near the house, they caught a glimpse of Lucy looking -sorrowfully from her window. She did not run to meet them, as they -expected, but old Betsy came out saying, "Oh! only think of it! Miss -Lucy has got the small-pox, I know she has. There's been a man here -that must have it, for he lives down by Bridget O'Brady's, where they -are dirty enough to make them all ill." - -Rosa was startled for a moment, but she answered calmly, "But Lucy -has been vaccinated, Betsy; she would not take the small-pox even if -the man really had it." - -"I don't believe nothin' at all in _vaxnation_," said Betsy; "it -don't stand to reason. I telled Miss Lucy she'd ketched the -small-pox, and I believe she has." - -"Poor child!" said Rosa; and she ran hastily up stairs. Harty did -not follow, for although he laughed at Lucy's timidity, he was a bit -of a coward about some things himself; and old Betsy's words had -alarmed him not a little. - -"Let me in, Lucy," said Rosa's sweet voice entreatingly; "I could not -take the small-pox if you had it." - -Lucy gladly unfastened the door. Rosa took the trembling girl in her -lap. For a few moments Lucy sobbed violently, and not a word was -spoken; at length Rosa said, tenderly, "Dear Lucy, there is no danger -of what you dread so much. Here, let me look at those little arms: -there is the scar where you wore vaccinated when you were a baby, -that you might never take the small-pox. Your kind father took good -care that his little Lucy should not have her smooth face all pitted." - -"Can't I have it?" asked Lucy, the tears still in her eyes. - -"No! certainly not!" was the reply. - -"But, dearest," continued Rosa, "you may be exposed to other diseases -quite as dangerous. I wish you could learn to trust the Heavenly -Father, who loves you more dearly even than our own papa; then you -would not be afraid of anything. Shall I tell you what I heard uncle -Gillette saying to one of the little girls at school, who was afraid -of lightning." - -"Oh! do," said Lucy; "I am so frightened when it thunders." - -Lucy nestled closer in her sister's lap, and Rosa began. - -"There was once a mighty king who was so terrible in war that all his -enemies were afraid of him; the very sound of his name made them -tremble. His arm was so strong that the horse and its rider would -sink under one blow of his battle-axe; and when he struck with his -sharp sword, his enemies fell dead at his feet. This mighty king had -a little fair-haired daughter, who watched him as he prepared for the -battle. She saw him put on his helmet, and laughed as the plumes -nodded above his brow. She saw the stately battle-axe brought forth; -she saw him take his keen sword in his hand; he tried its edge, then -waved it about his head in the sunlight. She laughed as it glanced -sparkling through the air; and even while it was upheld she ran -towards her father to take a parting kiss. Why was not the little -child afraid of the mighty king with the fierce weapons? Because he -was her father; she knew that he loved her, loved her as his own -life. She knew that those dangerous weapons would never be used -against her unless to save her from worse peril. Do you understand -what uncle Gillette meant by this story?" - -"Not exactly," said Lucy; "won't you tell me?" - -"He meant," said Rosa, "that God is like that mighty king. Sickness, -lightning, danger, trial, death, are all His weapons; but we need not -fear them if we are truly His children. When the sharp lightning -flashes in the sky, we can look calmly at its beauty, for it is in -our Father's hand. Sickness may be around us, but our Father can -keep us safe. Death may come, but it will only be to send us to our -Father's arms." - -"But I am not His child," half sobbed Lucy. - -"His child you are, my dear little sister: His loving, obedient -child, I hope you will be." - -At this moment the dinner-bell rang. Rosa waited till Lucy could -wash away the traces of her tears and smooth her hair, and then they -went down stairs together. Mrs. Maxwell looked up with a smile as -Rosa came in; her thoughtful deference was beginning to have its -effect. - -"Hurrah! for the small-pox!" shouted Harty, as Lucy came in. He had -heard from his father that the danger was imaginary, and, forgetting -his own fears, he quite despised Lucy for her fright. - -"Come here, my little patient," said the doctor to the blushing -child. "I don't wonder my pet was frightened: old Betsy ought to be -ashamed for being so foolish. Poor Owen M'Grath could injure no one; -his sorrow is his worst disease. You see I made out the name in your -spelling, and I am obliged to my little girl for trying to write the -message so exactly. Owen had as neat a little home as you could wish -to see, but it is a sad, sad place now. His poor wife has long been -ill with consumption; she died this noon, and there is no one to take -charge of his little baby but his daughter, who is only as old as you -are, Lucy." - -"Can we not do something for them, father?" asked Rosa. - -"How like her mother," thought the doctor. "Yes, dear child," he -replied; "I will take you to see them to-morrow." - -"May I go too?" asked Harty, eagerly. - -The father smiled and nodded his head. "We will not leave little -Lucy behind, either," he added, to her great delight; "that is, if -she is well enough. My pet looks a little pale yet. You did well, -Mrs. Maxwell, not to let her go out this morning." - -Mrs. Maxwell gave a glance at Lucy, which made her drop her eyes. - -"I shall not be at home to hear your catechism this evening, Lucy," -said Mrs. Maxwell, as she left the dinner-table; "I am going to see a -sick friend after church, as Miss Rosa can take my place at tea-time." - -"Willingly," said Rosa, "and hear the catechism too," she added, -internally. - - - - -CHAPTER X. - -THE HAPPY SUNDAY EVENING. - -Sunday afternoon passed away very rapidly to Lucy. She spent the -time while her brother and sister were at church in reading a little -book which Rosa had lent her. - -As the children sat together in the twilight, after tea, Rosa said to -Lucy, "We used to call you baby and pet at first: do you know when we -began to call you Lucy?" - -"Not till I was two months old, I've heard father say." - -"Yes; I well remember the morning that you took your new name," -continued Rosa. "It was a bright day in June. Dear mamma was so -kind and cheerful then. I can see her now as she came in to -breakfast, so slender and pale, and yet with such a calm, happy look -on her face. - -"'You must call the baby Lucy after to-day,' she said to me, as I -kissed her that morning. - -"'And why, dear mother?' I asked. - -"'Because she is to be baptized to-day, and take Lucy for her -Christian name,' answered our mother. - -"'But why is the baby to be baptized?' I childishly asked. She took -no notice of my question then; but after breakfast was over, she -called me to her side, and said, 'Shall I tell my little girl a -story?' - -"'Oh, do!' I answered, and she began. - -"'There was once a little child who lived in a very small cottage, -with a scanty grass plat before it. This child had a pet lamb, of -which she was very fond. She loved it so dearly that she often sat -on the door-step and anxiously thought how she should ever be able to -keep it from harm as it grew older, and would be tempted to run away -from the cottage, around which there was not even a light paling. -Then winter must come, and how would the poor little lamb be -protected from the storm? - -"'These thoughts were one day in the child's mind, when an old -traveller came to the cottage door, and said to her, "I have a -message to you, dear child, from the shepherd who feeds his flock on -yonder green hill. He has noticed you and your little lamb, and he -wants to be a friend to you. He knows that you will never be able to -keep your pet from harm, although you love it so tenderly; and he -bade me say to you, that he is willing to take your lamb to be one of -his flock, to feed in that green pasture and drink from the clear -stream that is ever flowing there. It shall be safely gathered to -his fold when the storms of winter beat, and shall be guarded from -all cruel beasts. You can see it every day, and caress it, though -you must never try to lead it away from him. Shall we go together -and lead the little lamb to the kind shepherd?" - -"'"Yes!" shouted the child, joyfully; and she took the old -traveller's hand, and gently led the lamb away by the blue ribbon -that was about its neck. - -"'It was but a short distance they had to go, yet the traveller found -time to tell the child, as they walked together, that if her lamb -learned to know the shepherd's voice, and follow him, he would take -it some day to a beautiful land, where it could hunger and thirst no -more; where there would be no more storms, nor cruel beasts, and -where she might meet it and dwell for ever with the kind shepherd and -his blessed flock. - -"'The child did not see the kind shepherd; but the peaceful sheep, -feeding on the delicate food, or lying beside the clear water, were -there, and she did not fear to leave her pet among them. Day by day -she saw her lamb grow stronger and happier, and more pure and gentle, -and she rejoiced that she had placed it among the favoured flock. - -"'One day the little child grew dizzy and faint: all things around -her seemed fading from her sight, and her dim eyes could only see a -strange figure which seemed beckoning her away. - -"'Then at her side she heard the voice of the old traveller who had -visited her before: "Fear not," said he; "you are going to the -beautiful land where the kind shepherd dwells." Then a pang shot -through the heart of the child, for she thought of the lamb that she -must leave behind her. The traveller guessed her thoughts, and -answered, "Your little lamb is in the care of the kind shepherd!" -Then the eyes of the child were bright, and she said, "I don't fear -for my little lamb: I am happy that I placed him where he will be so -tenderly cared for, when I did not know that I so soon must leave -him. May he learn to know the kind shepherd's voice, and follow him, -that we may meet again in the beautiful land." - -"'The cottage was soon all silence: the child no longer went singing -from room to room, but she was happy, far away in the blessed land -which the kind shepherd prepared for his faithful flock.'" - -"'Did the little lamb go to meet her there?' I asked, as dear mamma -stopped as if she had finished the story. - -"'I cannot tell you, Rosa,' she answered, and fast the tears fell -from her eyes. 'By the lamb I mean your little sister, and the kind -shepherd is the Saviour, to whom I am to give her to-day. God only -knows whether our little Lucy will reach the blessed land.' - -"'But you are not going away, mamma, as the child did,' I said, my -eyes, too, filling with tears, for I too well understood her meaning. - -"'Perhaps not very soon,' she answered, and smiled away her tears." - -Lucy was still silent, and Rosa went on, for both Harty and Lucy were -earnestly listening. - -"When you were carried up the aisle, dear Lucy, all in your white -clothing, you seemed to me like the little lamb of which mother had -spoken, and I felt that you were being received into the flock of the -kind shepherd. You smiled when the water was sprinkled on your -forehead, and I was so glad, for that made you seem willing to be -placed in His care." - -Lucy listened to the story of the child and the lamb; and when she -heard its explanation her heart was full, and she inwardly resolved -that she would try so to follow the Saviour here, that she might join -her mother at last in His blessed land. As Rosa recalled the -circumstances of her Baptism, she for the first time realized that it -had really happened, that her name had been really given by her -"sponsors in Baptism." - -"Was I there too?" asked Harty, beginning to be restless, as there -was a short pause. - -"Yes, indeed! and so eager to see the ceremony that you climbed on to -the seat, and leaned forward to look until you fell with a loud -noise, just as the baby was being carried out of church. You always -were a noisy fellow," said Rosa, as she laid her hand affectionately -on her brother's clustered curls. - -"Did I cry?" asked Harty. - -"No; you thought yourself too much of a man for that, even then; and -how fondly, proudly, mamma looked at you, as you closed your little -lips and stood up without a sound, though there was a bright red mark -on your forehead where you had struck it." - -It seemed strange to Harty that he was willing to sit still and -listen to a girl; yet he found a pleasure in being with Rosa -different from any he had ever felt. He had always been quite -indifferent as to what Lucy thought of him, but that Rosa should not -be pleased with him was a very unpleasant idea. As a child he had -tenderly loved his mother; and when she was taken from him, a blank -had been left in his heart which had never been filled. Now half the -charm of Rosa's society consisted in her being able to speak of that -mother, and revive his now fading remembrance of her. - -"Come," said Rosa, "let us say our Catechism together: I will ask the -questions, and we will all repeat the answers." - -Lucy was delighted at the idea, and readily joined her voice with -Rosa's. She found it difficult to keep with her sister in reciting, -as Rosa repeated her answers slowly, as if she really meant what she -was saying. As she pronounced the words, "a member of Christ, a -child of God," she looked meaningly at Lucy; and then it flashed -through the little girl's mind, that she was indeed the child of God, -as her sister had said; His child, not only because He had made her, -but because she had been made His by Baptism; and again she resolved -to be His "loving, obedient child." - -At first Harty did not join in saying the Catechism; he had for some -time given up the practice as a thing only for such children as Lucy; -but when he saw that Rosa did not think it beneath her, as they came -to the Apostles' Creed his voice mingled with the others. Rosa took -no notice of it save that she placed her hand in his, and they went -on. In some of the long answers Lucy faltered, and Harty halted -entirely; but Rosa smoothly continued until they could again join -her. As Harty repeated the once familiar words, he recalled the time -when he had learned them from that mother who was now a saint in -Paradise. With those familiar words returned the precious lessons of -love and holiness which she had spoken, but which he had forgotten -amid the sport and recklessness of boyhood. - -When they had finished, he was quite softened, and his voice was very -gentle as he replied to Rosa's proposal to sing, "Yes, if I know -anything you do." - -Lucy was fond of music, but she could not sing: she laid her head on -her sister's lap, and listened to the simple hymns with a feeling of -peace and happiness. Another and another hymn was sung, until, at -last, the clock struck nine. - -"Nine o'clock," said Harty, "and Lucy not in bed! what would Mrs. -Maxwell say to that?" - -Lucy had been fast asleep, and was not a little frightened when she -heard it was so late. She took a candle immediately, kissed her -sister and wished her good night. Oh! what pleasure it gave her when -Harty said, "Me, too, if you please," and really looked fondly in her -face. - -That night she forgot to look for robbers; she was too happy to think -of them; but she did not forget the many blessings of the day when -she repeated her usual thanksgiving. The same prayers she had often -said she used that evening; but they went up from her heart, and were -received in heaven for the Redeemer's sake. - - - - -CHAPTER XI. - -JUDY M'GRATH. - -Often, during school-hours on Monday, the promised visit to Owen -M'Grath's came into Lucy's mind, and she longed for four o'clock to -come, that she might be at liberty. School was over at last, and -with the pleasant consciousness of having done well the duties of the -day, Lucy tripped towards home. Julia Staples had tried several -times to draw her into a whispered conversation, but she had resisted -the temptation; and when Julia offered her an apple, and put her arm -in hers, to draw her aside for a confidential chat, Lucy refused the -gift and got away as soon as she could with politeness. She had -learned that the first step towards doing right, is to keep as much -as possible out of the way of temptation; and she knew that Julia's -society roused her evil feelings. - -"Dear me, how stuck-up somebody is!" said Julia Staples to one of her -companions, as Lucy turned away. - -Lucy heard the remark, and her face flushed slightly, but she made no -reply. - -Julia did not offer to accompany Lucy home, but with two of the -scholars, who were much like herself, she walked behind the little -girl, "making fun of her." Of this Lucy knew nothing. Lightly and -rapidly she walked along, not looking behind her, but welcoming each -turn in the road that brought her nearer home. - -Rosa and Harty were standing at the door to meet her. "I do believe -you were kept in," began Harty; "we have been waiting for you this -half-hour." - -"Come, come! young gentleman," interposed Rosa playfully, "you are in -such a hurry to wait on the ladies, that the time seems long to you. -It is but five minutes past four." - -The teased, fretted expression that was coming over Lucy's face -passed away in an instant, and Harty's impatience was changed to a -smile. - -The children, set off together in high spirits. Even Rosa, although -she know she was going to the house of mourning, caught something of -their spirit, and chatted cheerfully by the way. - -Dr. Vale was just driving up to Owen's door when they arrived. - -"That's right! all punctual," said he, as he alighted; and when he -looked upon their bright faces, he felt thankful that his little -group had been so far spared from sickness and death. The happy -young voices were hushed in an instant, as they entered the dark, -quiet room, into which the street-door opened. There was but a -little furniture, and that of the plainest sort, yet all was neat and -tidy. The pale, lifeless form of the mother was stretched upon the -bed, and close at its side there nestled a sleeping infant, rosy with -health. - -The little girl, who was sitting beside them, her head on her hands, -jumped up as the strangers came in. She instantly recognised the -doctor, and said, in a low voice, "Won't the docther plase to be -sated, and the young gintleman and ladies?" - -Noiselessly she put forward the chairs, and whispered as she did so, -"Whisht! the poor babby has been grievin' so I could not hush him at -all, and sorra a bit would he sleep till I laid him there by poor -mammy, and then he cuddled up to her cold side and seemed quite -contint." - -"Poor baby!" said Rosa, the tears in her eyes. - -They all drew near to the bed, and looked into the face of the dead. -Harty gave one glance and then stepped to the door; he could not bear -it; he felt a choking in his throat to which he was quite -unaccustomed. - -As Rosa and Lucy looked upon the calm, sweet expression of the face, -they felt no chill of horror. Death seemed less terrible to Lucy -than it had ever done before. "She is happy now?" half questioned -she of Rosa. - -Rosa looked puzzled, but the doctor replied, "Yes, she is happy. -'I'm going home,' were her last words. She has only gone to be with -the Friend whom she has served faithfully through life." - -"Did you say mammy was happy?" asked Judy, the little girl who had -been acting as nurse. - -"Happy with the angels in heaven," was the doctor's reply. - -"Then I'd not want her back again, to be sorrying here. Little peace -she's had, with that misery in her side, for many a day. Why, the -lifting of Larry there, was enough to make her all put to it for an -hour. Poor fayther, he can't get along with it all: sorra a bit has -he tasted to-day, and he cried fit to break his heart when he went -away to work this morning; but he said he must go, for he'd niver a -sixpence to pay for the burying." - -The poor little girl had been so long alone that it seemed to be -quite a relief to her to talk to some one who felt for her. - -"You'll be a comfort to him, I know," said Rosa, gently. - -"I'll lave nothing untiched that I can turn my hand to," answered -Judy, earnestly. - -The talking, although it was in a low voice, waked Larry, and he -began to moan piteously. He put out his hand, touched the cold face -near him, and then drew it quickly away. He half-raised his head, -but seeing that it was his mother's cheek that had so startled him, -he again put forth his hand and patted her gently until he was again -asleep. - -"And what will poor Larry do when they lay her in the cold ground?" -said little Judy, half crying. - -"He will soon be comforted," whispered Rosa: "God will take care of -you both. It must have been a long time since your mother has been -able to sew," she continued, to divert Judy's mind from her trouble. - -"Ach! yes. She has not set a stitch for two months gone; and there's -Larry, with sorra a bit of clothes but them he has on, savin' this -thrifle of a frock that I've been trying to wash for the burying." - -As she said this she put her hand on a little faded calico frock that -was hanging near the window. - -"I think we can get some clothes for Larry," said Rosa: "may I take -this home with me for a pattern?" - -Judy looked a little confused, but she answered, "Sartainly, miss." - -"Can you sew, Judy?" asked Rosa. - -"I never was learnt," was Judy's reply. - -"Would you like to have me teach you? If you would, you may come to -me every Saturday morning, and I will show you how." - -Judy's eyes brightened, and she was going to accept the offer very -gladly, when she thought of Larry, and changed her mind. - -"I can't lave Larry; there's nobody but me to mind him now." - -"You may bring him with you; I know Lucy here will take care of him," -said Rosa. - -"Oh yes, I will, if he won't be afraid to stay with me," said Lucy. - -Before they left the house it was agreed that Judy should come the -next Saturday morning for her first lesson in sewing, if her father -did not object. - -Dr. Vale, who had been standing without the door with Harty, met the -girls as they came out. He stepped back when Judy was alone, and -placed some money in her hand, telling her to give it to her father, -and say to him, that his children should not want for a friend while -Dr. Vale was in the neighbourhood. - -Judy curtseyed, and spoke her thanks as well as she was able, but -they were not heard, for the doctor hurried away, and in a few -moments had driven from the door. - -Very little was said on the way home. As they passed an old house, -with a rough, high fence about it, Harty told his sisters that this -was where the people had been sick with small-pox. - -Lucy clasped Rosa's hand a little closer, and they both stopped more -rapidly. - -"Father says nobody need be afraid, for they have all got well, and -nobody took it from them," said Harty. - -Notwithstanding this assurance, all the party felt more easy when the -house with the high fence was out of sight. - -"Let us stop here and buy the cloth for Larry's frocks," said Rosa, -as they reached the village shop. - -While Rosa was looking at some cheap woollen cloth, Harty was -fumbling in his pockets. He drew out some marbles, an old knife, a -peg-top, and some bits of string, and at last he found what he was -seeking--a half-crown, with which he had intended to buy some new -fishing-tackle. He gave one longing look at the money, and then -handed it to Rosa, saying, "Take that for the cloth." - -"Yes," said she, very quietly; but a bright, loving smile was on her -face, and Harty felt, happy, although he was blushing as if he had -been in mischief. Like many boys, Harty seemed to feel more ashamed -when he did right than when he did wrong. - -When the children were gathered round the table in the evening, Rosa -brought out the old dress, and was just putting the scissors to it -when Mrs. Maxwell exclaimed, "What are you doing, child? are you -going to cut that dress to pieces?" - -"I was going to rip it for a pattern," answered Rosa, mildly. - -"I suppose you think I could not cut out a frock nice enough for a -little Paddy boy," said Mrs. Maxwell. - -"Oh no, I did not think that!" Rosa replied, smiling; "I should be -very glad to have you help us." - -Mrs. Maxwell took the scissors, and the frocks were soon cut out, -much to Rosa's relief, for although she had resolved to do it, it was -her first attempt at dressmaking, and she was afraid that she should -only spoil the cloth. - -Then the sewing commenced, and the needles flew so fast that there -was little time for talking. Lucy was allowed to make the skirt, and -she sewed it as carefully as if it had been an apron for her doll, -and that was very nicely. Mrs. Maxwell put on her spectacles and -began to sew too, much to Rosa's surprise; and once she offered to -turn the hem for Lucy, when she saw that she was troubled. It seemed -as if the work they were doing put them all in a good humour, for -every face was bright and happy. Even Harty felt as if he had -something to do in the business, and instead of fidgeting about as -usual, annoying everybody, he sat very still for some time, doing no -harm, but breaking off thread from the ball and tying it into knots. -At last he said, "Shall I read to you?" - -"Yes, do," said Rosa and Lucy, both at once. - -"Well, I will, if Lucy will get my Natural History off my table." - -Lucy jumped up in a moment, and ran for the book: the hall-lamp -showed her the way until she got to the room door, and then, by the -faint starlight, she easily found the volume. There were other books -which Rosa would have preferred, and Harty was a very dull reader; -but she listened patiently, and got quite interested at last in an -account of an elephant that went mad in London, a favourite story -with Harty. - -Lucy was very sorry when bed-time arrived; but there was not a word -to be said, for Mrs. Maxwell put the lamp in her hand, and bade her -"Good night" most decidedly. - -As Lucy entered her own pretty room, she thought of little Judy -watching beside her dead mother in that poor cottage, and she -wondered that it had never struck her before that God had surrounded -her with so many blessings. - -Judy's washing had not been very well done, and as Rosa thought best -to send back the little frock as soon as possible, she was in haste -to have it made clean. - -After Lucy had gone to bed, she went to the kitchen with it in her -hand. Old Betsy was sitting by the fire, looking very stupid and -cross. Rosa was almost afraid to ask her to do what she had -intended. She took courage, however, and said, "Betsy, I want you to -wash this little frock for a poor boy who has no other to wear but -the one he has on. I know you would be glad to do it, if you had -seen the poor little fellow lying by his dead mother: he has nobody -at home to wash his clothes now." - -Betsy had looked very sour when Rosa commenced, but softened as she -continued to speak, and when Rosa finished, she took the little frock -in her hand, saying, "I suppose I shall ketch something, handling -this thing, but I can't say no to you, for you are the image of your -mother." - -"Thank you, Betsy," said Rosa; "I hope I may be like my mother. You -need not do the frock to-night; it will be time enough in the -morning. The funeral is not till three o'clock to-morrow afternoon, -and I can get Harty to take it down after school." - -"I guess Master Harty will not be running for anybody," said Betsy to -herself, as Rosa went up stairs; but she was wrong: Harty did go, and -took with him, besides, a penny cake, that he had bought for Larry. - - - - -CHAPTER XII. - -THE VISITOR. - -Rapidly, happily, the weeks flew by at Dr. Vale's cottage: there -seemed to be a new spirit at work there. Lucy no longer looked sad -and drooping: there was always a bright face to welcome her return -from school, and some one to listen to her account of the occurrences -of the day. If her lessons were difficult, Rosa was always ready to -explain them, and to encourage her to more persevering study. By -degrees, Lucy was learning to share all her feelings with her sister. -Sometimes Rosa found these confidences rather tiresome, but she never -checked them, as she Was anxious that Lucy should speak to her -without restraint, that they might be able to talk freely on the most -important of subjects. - -Many of Lucy's fears seemed to have passed away without effort as she -became more cheerful; others she had been enabled to conquer by -Rosa's kind advice; but the great secret of the new courage that she -seemed acquiring, was found in the few words, "God is with me, God -loves me," which were seldom far from Lucy's mind. - -At first she could not help feeling that when she had done wrong, God -had ceased to love her. Then Rosa would read to her passages from -the Bible where the Saviour speaks of having come to save sinners, -and would remind her, again and again, that she was God's own child. - -"God made you, my dear Lucy," she would frequently say; "and He loves -everything that He has made, and 'would not that any of His little -ones should perish.' Christ has died that you may be forgiven; He -has promised to receive all that truly come unto Him; His child you -were made in Baptism, and His child you are glad to be; then why -should you fear?" - -"It seems so strange that God is willing to forgive me so often," -Lucy would reply, "I can hardly believe it." - -"It is, indeed, most wonderful; but for Christ's sake His poor erring -followers are received, if they truly repent," would Rosa answer. - -"I wish I could be perfect in a minute," said Lucy, one day; "I get -tired of trying." - -"When Christ has done so much for us that wo may share His happy home -in heaven, we ought to be willing to stay here as long as He pleases, -and strive to follow His example. If we prayed more earnestly for -God to assist us, we should find it easier to do right; for God gives -His Holy Spirit freely to them that ask Him. If you can constantly -remember that God is with you, you will soon learn to turn to Him -when you are tempted," answered Rosa. - -Lucy thought that Rosa had no trouble to do right always; but it was -a mistake. Many times hasty words came to Rosa's lips, and unkind -thoughts were offered to her mind; but they wore followed so quickly -by the effort to subdue them, and the prayer for aid, that they never -were made known to those around her. - -Cold winter weather had come: it seemed to make Harty only the more -full of life and spirits. When he came in from the keen air, there -was always a bustle in the circle round the fire. Sometimes he would -lay his cold hands suddenly on Lucy's neck, and shout with laughter -as she shivered and drew away; sometimes Rosa's cheeks got rubbed -with a snow-ball until they were redder than usual; and almost always -the noisy fellow was reproved by Mrs. Maxwell for bringing in so much -snow or mud on his boots. - -Yet Rosa was learning to love her rough brother very dearly, and she -even fancied she could see some improvement in him. After a long -talk with his sister, he would be more gentle and quiet for a few -days; but soon some trifle would throw him into a passion, and all -his goodness departed. He was so accustomed to speaking rudely to -Lucy, that he never thought of it afterwards; yet he was mortified -when in his fits of passion he had been unkind to Rosa. - -She never seemed to retain any remembrance of his fault, but was -ready to meet him pleasantly again as soon as his bad humour had -passed away. - -He could not help admiring her noble spirit; and every day he felt -more and more sure that there was some strength in the principles -that could keep a high-spirited girl like Rosa uniformly gentle. - -By degrees Harty took less pleasure in teasing Lucy, and more -happiness in her society. She had followed Rosa's hints, and tried -not to be vexed and hurt by trifles, and really was becoming more -interesting as she grew more cheerful and talkative. - -Dr. Vale was still obliged to be very much away from home, but the -time that he could spend with his family he greatly enjoyed; and he -often rejoiced that Rosa had been brought home to throw around her -such an atmosphere of sunshine. - -Even Mrs. Maxwell had relaxed a little from her stiffness: she -occasionally allowed Rosa to put Harty's room in order at first, and -finally she gave up that charge entirely to her. This arrangement -prevented much disturbance, for Rosa handled carefully the veriest -trash, which she knew had value in Harty's eyes; and there were no -more broken cobwebs to put him out of temper. - -Often, when Mrs. Maxwell was weary, she found a comfortable chair -placed for her by the fire; when her eyes were painful at night, -unasked, Rosa would read the daily paper aloud. Such trifling -attentions were very grateful to the faithful housekeeper, and it -soon became a favourite joke with Harty to call Rosa "Mrs. Maxwell's -pet." - -As regularly as Saturday came, little Judy appeared, leading Larry by -the hand, for he was now nearly two years old, and a fine healthy boy. - -Lucy often wished that she could stay in the room with Rosa and Judy, -but the latter could never attend to her sewing while her little -brother was in her presence. She was constantly stopping to bid him -say, "Thank ye" to the lady, or shame him for running about as if he -were as much at home as the ladies. - -Lucy found it very easy to amuse Larry, and before long she grew fond -of him, and looked forward with pleasure to his Saturday visit. - -With Harty's consent, and Mrs. Maxwell's valuable assistance, some of -his old clothes were "cut down" for Larry, and he was warmly dressed -in a good great-coat and cap, that delighted him exceedingly, though -Judy could not help laughing when she first saw him in them. - -Judy learned much more than the use of the needle from Rosa. As she -sat sewing, Rosa taught her many sweet hymns and passages from -Scripture, and led her to look to her kind Heavenly Father as a -friend who would "never leave nor forsake her." - -The short winter days and the long winter evenings soon passed away. -One bright spring morning Lucy was looking at the hyacinths that were -blooming beside the cottage wall, when she heard a footstep, and, -turning round, she saw a stranger standing beside her. Once she -would have started away like a frightened bird; but now she did not -think of herself, but waited politely until the stranger should -announce his errand. - -"The flowers are peeping forth again; I see you love them," he said, -cheerfully; "and what a place this is for birds; I never heard such a -twittering. Are there any robins in the old nest at the bottom of -the garden?" - -"Oh yes, they have come," answered Lucy, wondering who could know so -well about the robin's nest. - -"We ought to be friends, Lucy," continued the stranger's pleasant -voice, "for I could hush you when you were a baby, when nobody else -could make you stop crying. You were a fat little thing then, and -you are not so very much heavier now." And he jumped the little girl -high in the air. - -Lucy by this time had made up her mind, that whoever the stranger -might be, she liked him. - -"Can it be uncle Gillette?" she had once thought to herself; but she -immediately decided that it was not he, as she had always imagined -him very stern, with large black eyes, and the stranger's face was -mild and cheerful, and his eyes were of a soft hazel. - -"I have more little friends in the house," said the gentleman, and -with Lucy's hand in his, he entered the door. Rosa was half-way down -stairs; she caught one glimpse of the stranger, and then gave a -flying leap, which nearly brought her to his side. - -"Oh! uncle Gillette, I am so glad to see you," she said, as he bent -to kiss her, apparently as delighted as herself. - -Harty came out to see what was the cause of all this commotion, and -was greeted with a cordial shake of the hand, and the address, "I -hope Harty has not forgotten his old playfellow, uncle Gillette." - -The children thought their father welcomed their uncle somewhat -coldly; but they changed their minds when they found that he had been -expecting him for several days, and had accompanied him from the -station to the gate. - -Lucy had supposed that she should be very much afraid of Mr. -Gillette, as she knew that he was very learned and good; but she -found him as mild and simple as a little child, and she was most -happy to take the low stool he placed for her at his side, and look -into his pleasant face, while she listened to his conversation. - -She was heartily sorry when she heard him say that he was to leave on -Monday morning, for as it was Saturday, they would have but a short -visit from him. - -There was no settled clergyman at Chatford at this time, the rector -being absent for the benefit of his health. On this account a long -time had passed since the children of the parish had been catechised -in the church. There was therefore no small bustle among the little -people when it was announced on the Sunday morning after Mr. -Gillette's arrival, that the children would be called upon to recite -the Catechism that afternoon, immediately after the service. - -There was much buzzing and studying at noon; and many a boy was -astonished that he had forgotten what was once so familiar to him, in -the long interval which had passed since the last catechising. - -Even Lucy was glad to study over what she called the "long answers," -although she never failed to repeat them with her brother and sister -every Sunday evening. She did not dare to lay her Prayer Book aside -until Rosa had patiently heard her say the whole Catechism, and -pronounced it perfectly learned. - -Many young hearts that had palpitated with fear at the idea of -reciting to a stranger, were reassured when the Rev. Mr. Gillette -arose after the Evening Service, and said, "The children may now come -up to the chancel." - -Without a thought that any one was observing her, Lucy stepped out -and joined the throng of boys and girls that were moving up the -aisle. Julia Staples was tittering in the pew behind, and Judy -M'Grath was walking at her side; but she did not see either of them; -she felt that she was in God's holy temple, and about to perform a -solemn duty, and she inwardly prayed that she might be able to -understand and improve by Mr. Gillette's explanations. - -The children were allowed to recite together, and their voices joined -in a full chorus, as they answered correctly all the questions of the -Catechism. Glances of triumph and congratulation passed from eye to -eye as they finished, or not once had they faltered, even in the most -difficult parts. - -"What is the Catechism?" asked Mr. Gillette. - -"It is a preparation for Confirmation," answered one of the boys. - -"You have all recited the Catechism perfectly; are you then prepared -to be confirmed?" said Mr. Gillette. - -There was no answer for a moment, and all looked confused; at length -there was a faint "No." - -"I fear not," continued Mr. Gillette: "how, then, must you say this -Catechism before you are ready to be confirmed?" - -"We must speak it from the heart," said Judy M'Grath. - -Some of the boys smiled at her Irish accent, but one glance from Mr. -Gillette sobered them. - -"Right! When do you take upon yourselves the promises made for you -by your sponsors in Baptism?" he asked. - -"At Confirmation," several replied. - -"True," said Mr. Gillette, "at Confirmation you take these promises -publicly upon yourselves. I see many before me," said he, looking -tenderly about him, "who are too young for Confirmation, but hardly a -child who is not old enough to make those solemn promises to God in -private, and strive earnestly to keep them. Do not wait, my dear -children, until you are old enough to be confirmed, before you -promise to love and obey the Saviour who has redeemed you. Your -sponsors laid you as infants on His bosom; turn not from Him with -your first feeble footsteps. You were made members of Christ at -Baptism; ask God this day to help you to live as the lambs of His -flock. If you commence now to strive to keep your baptismal -promises, Confirmation will indeed be, as it ought, a strengthening -of you in all that is good, an assistance in leading that holy life -which becomes the children of God, the members of Christ, and the -inheritors of the kingdom of heaven. - -"Let me ask you once more, Do you not believe that you are bound to -believe and do as your sponsors promised for you? Let me hear that -answer again, and may God give you strength to speak it from the -heart." - -"Yes, verily, and by God's help so I will; and I heartily thank our -Heavenly Father that He has called me to this state of salvation, -through Jesus Christ our Lord," was heard from the throng around the -chancel. - -Even those who stood nearest to Lucy could hardly hear her voice; no -human friend saw her uplifted eye; but God, who seeth all hearts, -accepted the vow she made in His holy temple, and she felt more fully -than she had ever done before, that she was indeed the child of God. - -Lucy was not the only child who had listened earnestly to Mr. -Gillette. It was the last time that he ever addressed those -children; but there will be those at the resurrection who will thank -him for the words he spoke that day: good resolutions were then -roused in young hearts, which strengthened until they became strong -principles, which supported through life, sustained in death, and -were perfected in heaven. - - - - -CHAPTER XIII. - -SICKNESS. - -All was changed at Dr. Vale's cottage on Monday noon: Mrs. Maxwell, -Harty, and Lucy once more sat down to dinner by themselves. The -doctor was with a distant patient, and Rosa had gone with Mr. -Gillette, to pass a few days in the city. - -Although Mr. Gillette had been with them so short a time, both Harty -and Lucy were sorry to part with him; and they did not wonder at -Rosa's strong attachment to their uncle. - -Lucy felt very sad when it was first proposed that Rosa should leave -home, although it was only for a few days; but she knew this was a -selfish feeling, and struggled to overcome it. Early on Monday -morning the packing of Rosa's trunk commenced. Lucy ran about to -wait on her sister, and helped her in her preparations as cheerfully -as if she herself were of the party; she even insisted upon lending -her certain belts and ribbons which were the treasures of her -wardrobe. - -Harty was not up when the carriage came to the door; he had been -called once, but had fallen asleep again. He thrust his tumbled head -from the window, and bade his sister a hearty farewell as she drove -from the door. - -This little circumstance seemed to have put him in a bad humour for -the day. He pushed away his plate at breakfast, declaring he would -not eat a mouthful of such trash; although everything was very nice, -and there were hot cakes, of which he was usually very fond. -Notwithstanding Harty's ill-humours, he was a favourite with old -Betsy, and she was always careful to send him up a good breakfast, -even when he had been lazy. - -At dinner, his temper did not seem to have improved. "How you do -eat," he said to Lucy: "it takes away my appetite to see you stuff -so. I will speak to father about it." - -Poor Lucy looked up in surprise, for she was only quietly taking a -moderate meal. Once she would have answered pettishly or begun to -cry, but Rosa had taught her that a cheerful as well as a soft answer -often turneth away wrath, and she smilingly replied, "Why, Harty, I -shall not be a stout, rosy girl soon, unless I make good dinners. Do -try some of this horse-radish, it will make you relish your dinner as -well as I do." - -"Pshaw!" exclaimed Harty, impatiently, "you need not try so hard to -be like Rosa: you can never hit it; you are as unlike as an acorn to -an apple." - -Lucy blushed, and was glad that Mrs. Maxwell spoke to her just then, -for she was hurt by her brother's rudeness, and tempted to make a -hasty reply. - -Mrs. Maxwell wanted a certain apron for a pattern, and Lucy ran for -it as soon as dinner was over, little thinking that even Mrs. Maxwell -had learned something from Rosa, and had spoken to her at that moment -to change the conversation. - -Lucy really felt sorry to see Harty come into the dining-room after -tea, as if he intended to spend the evening there, for the frown was -on his brow. She was about to ask him why he did not go to see John -Staples, when she remembered that Rosa had said that John was a bad -companion, and that sisters ought to do everything to make their home -pleasant, even when their brothers were cross and disagreeable; for -boys were often led into temptation when out of the house, from which -they were safe when at home. - -With these thoughts in her mind Lucy laid aside a mark which she was -working for Rosa, and which she was anxious to finish before her -return, and went for the chequer-board. - -"Don't you want to beat me?" she asked gently of Harty. - -"It is so easy to do that, I don't care for it," was his reply. - -The little girl was not discouraged; she took out her scrap-book and -pictures, and the bottle of gum-arabic, and placed them on the table. -She knew Harty would be sure to take an interest in some new -engravings which one of the school-girls had that day given her. - -A spirited engraving of a wild horse caught his eye, and he soon was -engaged in looking over the addition to the old stock, and in -advising Lucy where to paste them. One of the engravings he claimed -as his own. Lucy knew perfectly that he was mistaken, but she gave -it to him without a word; and when he laughed at her awkward way of -using the brush, she joined in the laugh, holding up her sticky -fingers in a comical way. - -Presently Harty put his head on the table, and fell fast asleep. - -"Harty must be unwell," said Mrs. Maxwell, as she roused him from his -heavy sleep, and told him he had better go up to bed. - -Grumbling at being waked, he disappeared, without saying Good night -to anybody. - -Rosa's room looked lonely and deserted to Lucy as she passed it that -night; and she wondered, as she put the lamp down on her own little -table, where her sister was, and what she was doing. - -That pretty room was a different place to Lucy from what it once was. -She did not think of looking for robbers now; she had given that up -long ago; and when she looked out of the pleasant window, the stars -seemed like spirits, that told her of the power of the great God, who -was her friend. She had ceased to hear mysterious noises in the -orchard; the stillness of the night was only disturbed by the -twittering of some restless bird, or the waving of the tender leaves -in the soft wind; but Lucy felt no fear as she looked out upon the -quiet scene. Once she had been afraid of ghosts, and often feared at -night to see some white figure rise before her; but since she had -learned to love the ever-present, invisible God, she felt safe from -all harm, whether from spirits or evil men. Lucy liked to be alone -now, that she might think about the gentle Saviour who was ever with -her. To that Saviour she spoke in sincere prayer that night. Her -brother was not forgotten: she prayed that God might watch over him -and make him truly good, and as she did so there was not a harsh -feeling in her heart towards him, notwithstanding his unkindness -during the day. - -In the middle of the night Lucy woke suddenly: she did not long doubt -as to what had roused her, for the rain was falling in torrents, and -soon there was a heavy clap of thunder, at almost the same moment -that the room was lit by the glare of lightning. Lucy lay very -still: she could not help feeling that there was some danger, but she -was calm and peaceful. "The lightning is in God's hand, my Father's -hand," she thought. "He will take care of me;" and she was soon -almost asleep again. A loud groan made her start up in bed and -listen. It was repeated, and seemed to come from Harty's room. -Without a thought but of alarm for her brother, she slipped on her -shoes, and throwing her little wrapper about her, she ran to him. - -"What is the matter, Harty?" film asked, as she stood by his side. - -"Go away! they'll not get me; I know where to hide," he muttered. - -"Wake up, Harty," said Lucy, "there's nobody trying to catch you." - -The lightning lit the room, and she saw that her brother's eyes were -wide open, and that his cheeks were flushed. She took his hand; it -was burning hot: he snatched it from her, saying, "Let me go, John, -you don't play fair." - -"Don't you know me, brother?" said Lucy, leaning over him. - -"Oh yes, Thomas; tell Betsy to bake me some cakes," was his reply. - -Poor Lucy! what should she do? She did not like to leave her brother -to call Mrs. Maxwell; yet something, she knew, ought to be done for -him immediately. At length she thought to knock on the wall, and -wake Mrs. Maxwell, as her room was next to Harty's. - -"What, afraid again?" said Mrs. Maxwell, as she saw Lucy standing by -her brother's bed. - -A groan from Harty, and a few muttered words, immediately drew her -attention to him. - -"I told you he was ill last night; why, how hot he is! Harty, what -ails you?" said Mrs. Maxwell in a breath. - -Harty could not tell what ailed him, for he was delirious with fever. - -"What shall we do?" said Mrs. Maxwell, desperately: "your father -won't be home till near morning, I know, and I am afraid to give any -medicine, for he always scolds about my 'dosing the children.'" - -"But Harty ought to have something done for him, I am sure," said -Lucy. - -"Well, we'll do what we can to put him in a perspiration," said Mrs. -Maxwell. "I'll go to the kitchen and make him some hot drink, and -get hot water for his feet, and may be that'll be the best thing till -the doctor comes home." So saying, she disappeared with the light -she had brought in her hand. - -Lucy put on her brother's great coat, that lay on a chair; for the -storm had cooled the air, and she was quite chilly. Thus equipped, -she began to act the nurse as well as she could. Her first step was -to light a lamp. Harty had a nice lucifer-box on his shelf: she felt -carefully for it, and managed to find it without knocking down any of -his treasures. - -Not a thought of fear crossed her mind, although Mrs. Maxwell had -gone to the kitchen in the basement, and there was no one near to aid -her, if her brother should attempt in his delirium to injure her. -Love to God made her trust in His protection; love to her brother -made her forgetful of danger to herself while striving to be useful -to him. She bathed his burning forehead, and moistened his parched -lips, and often spoke to him tenderly, hoping he might answer her -naturally. Sometimes, for a moment, she fancied he knew her, but as -she bent to catch his words, some unmeaning sentence would convince -her she was mistaken. How welcome was the sound of her father's -footstep! Unconscious of any evil, Dr. Vale entered the house, and -was hurried to Harty's bedside. Lucy watched his face as he felt her -brother's pulse and noticed his other symptoms, and her heart grew -sadder yet as she read his deep anxiety. - -Mrs. Maxwell told him how fretful and indifferent to food Harty had -appeared during the day, and of his unusual nap in the evening; and -as she did so, Lucy felt grateful that she had borne pleasantly with -her brother's ill-humour, which had, no doubt, been caused in part by -disease. How painful her feelings would have been if she had treated -him with unkindness, though with ever so great provocation! Children -can never know how soon the illness or death of their friends may -make them bitterly lament the slightest harshness towards them. - -When Dr. Vale had given Harty such medicines as he thought most sure -to give him relief, he for the first time noticed Lucy, who had kept -by the bedside. Even in his sadness, he almost smiled at the funny -little figure wrapped in the thick coat, with only the face visible, -looking out from the nightcap. - -"Go to bed, child; you can do no good here, and it will make you ill -to lose your sleep," he said to her, gently. - -"But, father," she pleaded, "I shall not sleep if I do go to bed; I -can't bear to leave poor Harty." - -"Mrs. Maxwell and I can do all that is needed for him to-night, my -dear," said he, kissing her sorrowful face. "To-morrow we shall want -you to run about and wait on us. Go, take some rest, like a good -child, that you may be able to be useful in the morning." - -With this motive to console her, Lucy went to her room. When there, -all the fearful reality of Harty's illness came fully upon her. He -might be taken from her, she thought, and at the very idea her tears -flowed fast, and her heart throbbed with distress. Lucy did not long -forget the heavenly Friend to whom she had learned to go in all her -trials. Now she prayed earnestly to Him to spare her brother's life, -or grant him his reason, that he might be able to realize his awful -situation if he indeed must die. After this prayer she felt more -composed, although very, very sad. At last she fell asleep, and did -not wake until the sun was several hours high. - -Her first thought in waking was of her brother. She stole gently to -his door. Mrs. Maxwell was sitting beside him: she motioned to Lucy -to go away, and made a sign that Harty was sleeping. - -The sorrow and anxiety of that day would have been harder for Lucy to -bear, if she had not been so busy. Mrs. Maxwell did not leave the -sick-room, and Dr. Vale was there nearly all the time; but unwilling -as he was to leave his son, he was obliged to visit other patients -several times during the day. - -Lucy was kept almost constantly in motion. She brought for Mrs. -Maxwell what was needed from the surgery or the kitchen, and carried -messages in all directions. She carefully placed a little chair by -the door, and there she sat silently, to be ready whenever she might -be wanted. - -Lucy did not ask her father any questions, but she hoped from hour to -hour to hear him say that her brother was better; but no such -cheering words fell from his lips. - -Towards evening he hastily wrote a letter, and said to Lucy, as he -handed it to her to send to the post, "I have written to Rosa to come -home immediately. Tell Patty to have a room ready for Mr. Gillette; -he will return with her." - -These words were full of dreadful meaning to Lucy. Harty must be -very ill, she knew, or Rosa would not have been sent for. Throwing -aside her usual quiet manner, she clasped her father round the neck -and sobbed upon his bosom. "Dear, dear father," she whispered, "do -you think Harty will die?" - -"God may spare him," said Dr. Vale, his strong frame shaking with -emotion, and the tears in his eyes. - -Lucy had never seen her father so much moved before, and she felt -sure that he had very little hope that her brother would be well -again. - -She ceased sobbing, and a strange calmness came over her. Every -impatient or unkind word that she had ever spoken to Harty came back -to her; and oh how solemnly she resolved, if he should recover, to be -a better sister to him than she had ever been before! She tried to -remember something that Harty had said which could make her feel sure -that he would be happy in heaven, if he should die. She thought of -the Sunday evening when he had bid her "Good night" so kindly, and -joined in saying the Catechism; of the first Sunday that he had made -a prayer on entering church; and of the many times that he had -listened with interest while Rosa talked of the Saviour. But these -recollections did not set her mind at rest. She knew that God had -said, "My son, give me thine heart;" and she felt sadly sure that -Harty had never, in sincerity, given his heart to God. - - - - -CHAPTER XIV. - -CONCLUSION. - -Rosa reached home on Wednesday morning. Her bright smile had -vanished, and her sweet eyes looked sad and tearful; yet her step was -firm and her manner calm. Lucy felt sure when she met her sister, -that she had found support in this great trouble from that God who -bids us "cast all our care on Him, for He careth for us." - -When Rosa bent over Harty, and called him by name, he looked -strangely at her, and, muttering, turned away. At first this was -almost too much for her to bear; but by degrees she became accustomed -to it, and commanded herself sufficiently to relieve Mrs. Maxwell -from her post as nurse. Poor Mrs. Maxwell was quite worn out, and -was very glad to take a little rest. Lucy had darkened her room, -that she might sleep the better; and as soon as the tired woman had -lain down, she stationed herself by the door to keep the hall as -quiet as possible. Lucy found that she had been unjust to Mrs. -Maxwell. She had always thought her a stern woman with a cold heart; -but when she saw how tenderly she watched by Harty's bedside, she -felt that she should always love her for it, and never call her cross -again, when she found fault about trifles. - -Mrs. Maxwell herself was surprised to find how deeply she had become -attached to Dr. Vale's children. She had met with much misfortune -and unkindness in the world; and when she came to live in Dr. Vale's -family, she resolved to do her duty faithfully, and did not expect to -love those around her or be loved by them. Although her severe -manner had softened but little, by degrees she had become so fond of -the children that she was only happy when doing something for them; -and now her anxiety for poor sick Harty knew no bounds. - -Several sad days of care and nursing passed by. Dr. Vale, Mrs. -Maxwell, and Rosa, were with Harty by turns, day and night; and Lucy -patiently waited on all until evening came, when she slept soundly -from pure weariness. - -Mr. Gillette was a comfort to all: he seemed truly a messenger from -his Master in heaven, for there were ever sweet words of consolation -on his lips. He daily offered prayers in the room of the sick boy; -and all who knelt with him rose up strengthened by trust in the God -who "doeth all things well." - -One day, when Harty had been ill a week, Rosa was sitting by him in -silence, when, in a low, weak voice, he called her by name. - -"My dear brother," she answered, very calmly, although she was much -startled. - -He took the hand she placed on his, and said, in a searching manner, -"Am I very ill?" - -"We hope you may get well, but you are in God's hands," was Rosa's -reply. - -To be in God's hands was not an idea of peace to poor Harty. He -could not turn with loving trust in sickness to the God whom he had -neglected in health. A pang darted through his heart, a pang of fear -and remorse, more deep and painful than he had ever felt. He was to -die with all the sins of his youth upon him! In his weak state this -awful thought was too much for him, and his mind again wandered in -delirium. - -Rosa continued by his bedside in silent prayer. She did not again -hear her name called, as she hoped, and she was forced to resign her -place to Mrs. Maxwell, without having another sign of consciousness -from her brother. - -When it was again Rosa's turn to act as nurse, she found that there -had been a decided change in Harty. He slept more calmly, and -breathed more naturally. Dr. Vale came in when she had been sitting -by the bed a few moments: a rapid examination served to show him that -there was, indeed, cause for hope. - -The joyful news spread through the household, and many thanksgivings -went up to the God who dispenses sickness and health. Rejoiced as -all were at the idea of seeing Harty once more in health, there was -in every heart a deeper cause of gratitude: they might now hope that -he would not be called to meet his Father in heaven while yet a -disobedient, wandering child. Time might yet be given him to learn, -to know, and love that Father, and walk in His holy ways. - -When Harty was again conscious of what was going on around him, his -father was with him. "Don't trouble yourself to think now, my dear -boy," said Dr. Vale, soothingly. "I hope you will soon be much -better; and I pray God that He will enable you to lead a new life. -Lie still now, and you will soon fall asleep again, to wake much -refreshed, I hope." - -Harty's recovery was slow and tedious. He was very weak, and little -inclined to talk. He seemed most contented when Rosa was singing to -him some pretty hymn, and Lucy was sitting by him on the bed -smoothing his hair, or fanning him gently. - -His large eyes looked sunken and thoughtful, and his manner, once -boisterous, was mild and gentle. - -"Don't move for me again this morning, dear Lucy," he said one day; -"your little feet must be very tired with running up and down stairs. -When I get well I shall have to wait on you all the rest of my life -to repay you for this kindness." - -This was so unlike the old, exacting Harty, that it quite overcame -little Lucy, and the tears were in her eyes as she answered, "I love -to do anything for you, my dear brother. I want nothing from you but -to get well as soon as you can, and look bright, and merry, and tease -me as you used to do." - -A sad smile crossed Harty's face, as he said, "I don't mean to do as -I used to do in anything, Lucy. You will forget how unkind I was to -you, won't you, pet? I don't think I shall be so any more." - -Lucy's tears fell fast. Don't talk so, Harty," she said; "You were -never unkind to me. I was a foolish little thing, and let everything -worry me. Come, we won't talk any more; you look tired. Here is -Rosa, she will sing,-- - - 'Softly now the light of day,'-- - -while you take a nice little nap." - -By degrees the colour came again to Harty's cheeks, and his limbs -renewed their strength. - -One calm Sunday evening, towards the end of June, he was sitting -between his sisters, looking out at the evening sky. - -"Let us have the Catechism once more," said Lucy; "it will seem like -old times." - -Rosa and Lucy began as usual together. Harty's voice was with them; -and there was a deep solemnity in his manner as he pronounced the -words, "Yes, verily, and by God's help so I will; and I heartily -thank our Heavenly Father that He has called me to this state of -salvation, through Jesus Christ our Lord; and I pray unto God to give -me His grace that I may continue in the same unto my life's end." - -His sisters felt that he spoke from his heart; and there was that joy -in their hearts which the angels know over "one sinner that -repenteth." - -As the summer passed away, the cottage looked cheerful once more, as -of old. The children again rambled in the woods or strolled in the -orchard, and whenever their voices were heard the tones were pleasant -and kindly. - -True, they all had faults of character still to overcome, and were -sometimes tempted to go astray; but there was in each heart an -earnest wish to do right, and a spirit of love and forgiveness that -kept them from all variance. - -Mrs. Maxwell was still formal and particular; but she now had little -cause for complaint, for Harty was so grateful for her watchful care -during his illness, that he made many efforts to overcome his -careless habits, and in a great measure succeeded. - -"The dear boy forgot for once," she would sometimes say, as she hung -his cap on the accustomed peg, or overlooked some act of -heedlessness; for she felt that he was trying to please her, and she -was the more ready to forgive him. - -In the trying scenes by Harty's bedside Dr. Vale had been brought -near in heart to his children. Now there was no subject on which he -could not talk freely to them. He spoke to them of their mother, and -told them anecdotes of her blameless life that were treasured up in -their young hearts for loving imitation. - -The blessed Saviour and the heaven He purchased for His faithful ones -were often subjects for conversation in that happy family circle, and -the doctor felt, as he looked into the faces of his children, that -God had blessed their mother's prayers. - -Uncle Gillette's letters were always welcomed with joy, and never -read without cheering the young Christians in the path of duty. - -Lucy had now nothing to fear: the sorrows of her timid childhood were -over. Loving and cheerful, she made all happy around her. She had -found a comfort for all sorrow, a Friend ever-present, a support for -life and death, in Him who saith to the children of His love, "Fear -not, little flock; for it is your Father's good pleasure to give you -the kingdom." - - - -LONDON: R. K. 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You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms -of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online -at <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a>. If you -are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the -country where you are located before using this eBook. -</div> - -<p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Title: Timid Lucy</p> -<p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Author: Sarah Schoonmaker Baker</p> -<p style='display:block; text-indent:0; margin:1em 0'>Release Date: August 3, 2022 [eBook #68677]</p> -<p style='display:block; text-indent:0; margin:1em 0'>Language: English</p> - <p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em; text-align:left'>Produced by: Al Haines</p> -<div style='margin-top:2em; margin-bottom:4em'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK TIMID LUCY ***</div> - -<p><br /><br /></p> - -<p class="capcenter"> -<a id="img-front"></a> -<img class="imgcenter" src="images/img-front.jpg" alt="LUCY AND BRADGET O'BRADY" /> -<br /> -LUCY AND BRADGET O'BRADY -</p> - -<h1> -<br /><br /> - TIMID LUCY<br /> -</h1> - -<p><br /><br /></p> - -<p class="t3"> -by -</p> - -<p class="t2"> -Sarah Schoonmaker Baker -</p> - -<p><br /><br /></p> - -<p class="t3"> - "FEAR NOT, LITTLE FLOCK."<br /> -</p> - -<p><br /><br /></p> - -<p class="t3"> - LONDON:<br /> - JOHN MORGAN, 10, PATERNOSTER ROW.<br /> - 1862<br /> -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p class="t4"> - LONDON:<br /> - ROBERT K. BURT, PRINTER,<br /> - HOLBORN HILL.<br /> -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p class="t3b"> - CONTENTS.<br /> -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<p class="noindent"> - CHAP.<br /> -</p> - -<p class="noindent"> - I.—<a href="#chap01">The Little Bed-room</a><br /> - II.—<a href="#chap02">The Thunder-shower</a><br /> - III.—<a href="#chap03">The Medicine</a><br /> - IV.—<a href="#chap04">An Announcement</a><br /> - V.—<a href="#chap05">The Arrival</a><br /> - VI.—<a href="#chap06">An Accident</a><br /> - VII.—<a href="#chap07">Sunday Morning</a><br /> - VIII.—<a href="#chap08">Staying at Home</a><br /> - IX.—<a href="#chap09">The King and his Weapons</a><br /> - X.—<a href="#chap10">The Happy Sunday Evening</a><br /> - XI.—<a href="#chap11">Judy M'Grath</a><br /> - XII.—<a href="#chap12">The Visitor</a><br /> - XIII.—<a href="#chap13">Sickness</a><br /> - XIV.—<a href="#chap14">Conclusion</a><br /> -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap01"></a></p> - -<p class="t2"> -TIMID LUCY. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /></p> - -<h3> -CHAPTER I. -<br /><br /> -THE LITTLE BED-ROOM. -</h3> - -<p> -Dr. Vale had the prettiest house in all Chatford. -It was a tasteful, white cottage, with a -green lawn in front, and tall elm trees about -it. The side windows looked out upon a -pleasant orchard, where the smooth, ripe apples -peeped temptingly from their beds of fresh -leaves. At one of these windows there was a -neat curtain, that was looped back one summer -evening, while through the open casement there -floated the perfume of the rose bush that had -climbed the cottage wall, until its buds could -look in at the upper window. A pretty sight -there was within! the moonlight streamed on -the floor, and lit up as sweet a little bed-room -as any fairy could desire. The small -counterpane and bureau-cover were white as snow, on -the tiny work-table there was a vase of fresh -flowers, and the miniature book-case was filled -with an interesting collection of nicely-bound -volumes. There was nothing wanting to give -the apartment an air of perfect taste and comfort. -</p> - -<p> -Did the young owner enjoy that pleasant -room? Young she must have been, for -everything, even to the low rocking-chair, was -evidently prepared for the use of some favoured -child. -</p> - -<p> -Presently the door opened, but no one -entered. Lucy Vale, the doctor's youngest -daughter, stood timidly without. Surely there -was nothing frightful in that quiet room? yet -she did not venture in until the light was so -steady that she could see plainly into its -farthest corners. As soon, as she had locked the -door behind her, she looked into the closet, -behind the curtain, under the bed, and even -under the bureau, where nothing thicker than -a turtle could possibly have hidden itself. -</p> - -<p> -There had not been a robbery in the peaceful -village of Chatford in the memory of the oldest -inhabitant, so there was no danger of Lucy's -disturbing any villain in his hiding-place. If -she had chanced to find the thief she seemed so -earnestly seeking, she would have been in a -most unfortunate position, as her bed-room -door was locked, and, without any weapon, -her feeble arm would have been but poor -protection. -</p> - -<p> -Children who never go to sleep without -hunting for robbers, seldom think what they -would do if they should at last succeed in -finding one, nicely stowed away in a closet. -Few thieves are so hardened as to injure a -sleeping child, while the most cowardly might -be led to strike a blow on being suddenly -discovered, and placed in danger of punishment. -After all, even if there were thieves in a house, -the safest course for a child would be to go -quietly to sleep, and leave the evil men to steal -and depart. -</p> - -<p> -Lucy Vale did not seem quite satisfied with -her first search; again she furtively glanced -about, before she sat down to read the chapter -in the Bible, which she had been taught never -to omit at night. Lucy read her Bible as a -duty, not because she loved it, or wished to -learn the will of God, and now she could not -fix her attention at all upon its sacred pages. -</p> - -<p> -She was hardly seated when a slight sound -in the orchard attracted her notice; she jumped -up and ran to the window. All was quiet in -that peaceful scene, save the occasional dropping -of the ripe fruit. The shadows of the leaves -quivered in the moonlight in what seemed to -her a mysterious manner; a strange feeling of -fear stole over her; she did not return to the -Bible, but having hastily undressed, she fell -upon her knees for her evening prayer. Lucy -would have thought it very wicked to go to -sleep without what she called saying her -prayers. In truth it was only <i>saying</i> them, for -while she repeated the solemn words, her -thoughts were far away. Sometimes she would -get so busily thinking of other things, that her -lips would cease to move, and she would remain -on her knees, buried in thought, for many -minutes. As soon as she remembered why -she was kneeling, she would hurry over the -remainder of her prayers and go to bed, quite -satisfied that she had done her duty. -</p> - -<p> -On this particular evening her prayers were -soon over, and she was quickly in bed, leaving -the lamp burning; its light however was of -but little use to her, as she thrust her head -under the covering, hardly leaving space -enough to breathe through. -</p> - -<p> -If Mrs. Maxwell, the housekeeper, had -known that Lucy kept her light burning at -night, she would have scolded her severely, -for she often said, "it was flying in the face of -nature to try to make night like day, and for -her part she thought it downright wicked to -be wasting oil when everybody was asleep, to -say nothing of the danger of fire." -</p> - -<p> -Dr. Vale had lost his wife when Lucy was -just six years old, and since that time -Mrs. Maxwell had been his housekeeper; he trusted -everything to her, and she seemed to take the -greatest delight in being economical, that none -of her master's substance might be wasted. -She was not bad-tempered, but she had a stern, -harsh manner, and was easily worried by children, -only thinking them good when they were -silent and stirred neither hand nor foot. Lucy -seldom came near her without being blamed for -something, or told to sit down and be quiet. -</p> - -<p> -The little girl would have been quite lonely -had it not been for her brother Hartwell, who -was just two years older than herself. Lucy -was now ten, but Hartwell seemed to think her -a very little child, hardly fit to be his -companion, yet he would sometimes permit her to -play with him, and a dearly-bought pleasure -it was. Harty, as he was generally called, was -indolent; he could not bear to move about, and -therefore found it very convenient to have Lucy -to wait upon him. He never seemed to have -thought his sister might not like running up -and down stairs any better than he did. It -was so easy when he wanted anything to tell -Lucy to run for it, that sometimes he kept her -little feet in such constant motion that at night -she was quite tired out. If she ever -complained, he told her, girls were made to wait -on boys, and if she could not do such trifles for -him she had better go to her doll-baby and not -be about in his way. Lucy loved her brother, -and liked to be near him, so she seldom refused -to do what he asked her, although he often -called her disobliging when she had been trying -her best to please him. -</p> - -<p> -Hartwell was very fond of teasing, and his -poor little sister had to suffer for his -amusement. Sometimes he would make her cry, by -telling her that she was so ugly that it was -painful to look at her; at others he would call -her a coward, and run after her to put insects -on her neck, or he would jump out from a dark -corner and shout in her ear when she thought -herself quite alone. -</p> - -<p> -As you will conclude, Lucy did not lead a -very happy life. Her father was so constantly -occupied that he seldom took his meals with -the family, and sometimes hardly spoke to his -little daughter for days together. She had no -one to whom she could talk freely; Mrs. Maxwell -never listened to her, and her brother -was so apt to laugh at what she said, that she -did not dare to tell him many things that -troubled her. She was naturally a timid child, -but since her mother's death she had grown so -bashful that she could hardly answer when a -stranger spoke to her. Many of her childish -fears, which a kind friend in the beginning -could easily have banished, had become so strong -that she lived in perpetual alarm. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap02"></a></p> - -<h3> -CHAPTER II. -<br /><br /> -THE THUNDER-SHOWER. -</h3> - -<p> -About midnight Lucy was roused by a loud -clap of thunder. The rain was dashing in -through the open window, and the waning -lamp seemed but a spark amid the almost -incessant flashes of lightning. The poor child -trembled with fear, she dared not close the -window, and yet the flying drops almost -reached her little bed. She lay in an agony -of terror, thinking that every moment might -be her last. The idea of death was horrible -to her: in broad daylight, or when pleasantly -occupied, she could forget that she must die; -but any sudden fright would bring the solemn -truth to her mind and fill her with distress. -She had never heard Mrs. Maxwell or Harty -speak of being afraid of death, and dared not -mention her fear to them, and with her father -she was so shy, that he knew very little of what -was passing in her mind. -</p> - -<p> -The many faults of which she had been -guilty rose to her mind in that awful storm, -and she resolved if her life were spared never -to do wrong again. After making this resolution -she felt a little comforted, and began to -think what could be done about the window. -She got up and took the lamp to go and call -some one to her assistance. But whom should -she call? "I will not disturb father," she -said to herself, "he was so very tired last -night; Harty will laugh at me for not doing it -myself; and Mrs. Maxwell—I cannot wake -her, she will be so very angry." Thus thinking, -she stood irresolutely in the hall, starting -at every flash of lightning, and afraid either to -go forward or return. Just then Mrs. Maxwell -opened her door: "What are you about there?" -said she, with an astonished look at Lucy. -</p> - -<p> -"Please, ma'am," said the little girl, who -was really glad to see a human face, "will you -shut my window?" -</p> - -<p> -"Why in the name of wonder did not you -shut it yourself?" was the response. Lucy -was silent, and they entered the room, together. -"A pretty piece of work!" said the neat -housekeeper, holding tip both hands, as her -eyes fell on the soaking carpet. She shut the -window hastily, and then said to Lucy, "Come -to my room, for it wouldn't be safe for any one -to sleep in that damp place." -</p> - -<p> -Lucy was so much afraid of Mrs. Maxwell, -that it was quite a trial to be in the same bod -with her; she crept close to the wall, not daring -to go to sleep, lest she should be restless, and -wake the stern woman at her side. She had -many serious thoughts that night, and again -and again resolved never more to do wrong. -</p> - -<p> -Towards morning she had a pleasant nap, -from which she was roused by the morning -bell. The sun was shining cheerfully into the -room, and the wild storm of the night seemed -like a painful dream. She dressed herself -carefully, and knelt to say her morning prayer, -simple words which she had repeated a thousand -times with as little thought as if they had been -without sense or meaning. Those same words, -spoken with earnest sincerity, would have called -down a blessing from Him who loves to listen -when children truly pray. Lucy had not -forgotten her resolution to do right, but she -trusted in her own feeble efforts. -</p> - -<p> -A flush of pleasure lit the usually pale face -of the little girl as she saw her father seated -at the breakfast-table. She glided into the -chair next him, and hardly ate anything, she -was so busily occupied in watching his plate, -and placing all he might need beside him. -Harty, meanwhile, showed his delight in his -father's company by being more talkative than -usual. He had taken a long walk in the fresh -morning air, and had many things to tell about -what he had seen. What had interested him -most was a tall tree, which the recent lightning -had struck and splintered from the topmost -bough to the root. -</p> - -<p> -Lucy shuddered as the conversation brought -the painful scene of the night afresh to her -mind. It revived Mrs. Maxwell's memory -also, for she turned to Lucy with a stern look, -and said, "How came you with a light last -night?" -</p> - -<p> -Lucy blushed, and hastily answered, "I -forgot to put it out when I went to bed." -</p> - -<p> -"Careless child!" was Mrs. Maxwell's only -reply; but nothing that she could have said -would have made Lucy more unhappy than the -fault she had just committed. What would -she not have given, a few moments after, to -recall those false words; but they had been -spoken, and recorded in the book of God! -</p> - -<p> -During breakfast Dr. Vale looked anxiously -many times at the little girl at his side. There -was nothing of cheerful childhood in her -appearance; her slender figure was slightly bent, -and her small face was pale and thin; her eyes -were cast down, and she only occasionally -looked up timidly from under the long lashes. -Her little mouth was closed too tightly, and -her whole expression was so sad and subdued, -that he was truly troubled about it. It was -plain to any one who looked at her that she -was not happy. -</p> - -<p> -The doctor dearly loved his children. Harty -he could understand, but Lucy was a mystery -to him. He felt certain that she loved him, -for she never disobeyed him, and when he was -with her she was sure to nestle at his side, and -take his hand in hers; but she seldom talked -to him, and was growing daily more silent and -shy. -</p> - -<p> -"Something must be done for her," he -inwardly said. His thoughts were interrupted -by Harty's calling out, "Why don't you eat -something, Lucy? There, let me butter the -baby some bread." Rude as this remark -seemed, it was meant in kindness. -</p> - -<p> -"I don't want anything, Harty," answered -the sister. "Nonsense!" said he; "you are -thin enough already: one of the boys asked -me the other day, if my sister fed on -broom-splinters, for she looked like one;" and the -thoughtless boy gave a loud laugh. -</p> - -<p> -It would have been much better for Lucy -if she could have laughed too, but the tears -filled her eyes, and she pettishly replied, "I -should not care what I was, if it was only -something that could not be laughed at." -</p> - -<p> -At this Harty only shouted the louder. -"Hush, Harty," said Dr. Vale; "for shame, -to tease your sister. Don't mind him, Lucy," -and he drew his arm tenderly around her. -She laid her head on his lap, and cried -bitterly. This kindness from her father would -usually have made her quite happy, but now -the falsehood she had first uttered made her feel -so guilty that she could not bear his gentle -manner. She longed to tell him all—her fault -of the morning, her terror of the night -before—all she had thought and suffered for so many -weary days; but her lips would not move, and -she only continued to sob. A ring at the bell -called the father away, or she might have -gained courage to open her heart to him. If -Lucy could have been more with him, she -would have found a friend who would have -listened to all her little trials, and given her -the truest consolation and advice. It was a -source of sorrow to Dr. Vale that he could -be so little with his family, and on this -particular morning he felt it with unusual force. -</p> - -<p> -"My little daughter is going on badly," -he said to himself, as he entered his chaise, -to make his round of visits. "The child is -losing all her spirits; she needs a different -companion from Harty; he is too boisterous, -too much of a tease for my little flower. -Mrs. Maxwell is not the person to make a child -cheerful; I must have Rosa at home." The -doctor was prompt to act when he had fixed -upon a plan, and that day a letter was written -to his eldest daughter, recalling her home. For -three years before her mother's death, and -since that time, Rosa had been under the care -of her uncle, the Rev. Mr. Gillette. This -gentleman had been obliged by ill-health to -give up the exercise of his holy profession, -but he did not cease to devote himself to his -Master's cause. He received a few young -ladies into his family, whose education he -conducted with all the earnestness of a father. -His chief aim was to lead his pupils in the -pleasant paths of virtue, and make them to -know and love the Lord. Rosa, as the child -of his departed sister, had been peculiarly dear -to him; he had spared no pains in moulding -her character, and was now beginning to see -the fruits of his labour in the daily improvement -of his attractive niece. To Rosa, then, -whom we shall soon know better, the doctor's -letter was immediately sent. -</p> - -<p> -Lucy, meanwhile, had no idea of the change -that was soon to take place in her home. She -passed a sad day, for the remembrance of the -untruth she had spoken hung about her like -a dark cloud. She had been taught that a -lie was hateful to God, and sure to bring -punishment. Mrs. Maxwell had made it a -part of her duty to hear Lucy recite the -Catechism every Sunday. These were trying times -to the little girl, for the eye of the questioner -was constantly fixed upon her; and if she -failed or faltered in one of the long answers, -she was sent to her room to study there -until she could go through the part without -hesitation. Mrs. Maxwell generally closed the -Sunday evening exercise by telling Lucy how -dreadful a thing it was to be a bad child, -and that God saw her every moment, and -would punish every wicked act she committed. -From these conversations Lucy would go away -in tears, resolved never to do wrong again; -but these resolutions soon passed from her -mind, until recalled by some fright or by the -lesson of the next Sunday evening. -</p> - -<p> -She only thought of God as an awful -Judge, who would take delight in punishing -her, and was far happier when she could -forget Him. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap03"></a></p> - -<h3> -CHAPTER III. -<br /><br /> -THE MEDICINE. -</h3> - -<p> -The morning light streamed pleasantly into -Lucy's pretty room, and there was the little -girl quite dressed, and moving about as busily -as Mrs. Maxwell herself. She had been up -since the dew-drops began to sparkle in the -sunlight. She could not make up her mind -to confess her fault to her father or -Mrs. Maxwell, but she was determined to be so -very good as to quite make up for it. In the -first place, she would put her room in order; -that would please Mrs. Maxwell. -</p> - -<p> -With a tremendous effort she turned her -little bed, and then spread up the clothes with -the greatest care. It was her first attempt -in that way, and not very successful, but she -was quite satisfied with it, and walked about -surveying it as if it had been a masterpiece -of housewifery. -</p> - -<p> -The doctor was again at the breakfast-table, -and he was pleased to see his little daughter -looking so much more cheerful. Harty, as -usual, was in excellent spirits; but his father's -rebuke was still fresh in his mind, and he -refrained from teasing his sister, and -contented himself with telling funny stories about -school occurrences, until even Mrs. Maxwell -was forced to laugh. -</p> - -<p> -As they rose from the table, Dr. Vale -handed Lucy a small parcel, saying, "Take -good care of this, my dear, and leave it at -Mrs. Tappan's on your way to school; it is -some medicine for her, which she will need -at ten o'clock. I have a long ride to take -in another direction, so good morning, my -little mouse." Having kissed her affectionately, -he jumped into his chaise, and was soon -out of sight. -</p> - -<p> -Lucy was unusually happy when she started -for school; Harty had not teased her, -Mrs. Maxwell had not found fault with her, and -her father had trusted her with something to -do for him. -</p> - -<p> -The summer sky was clear above her, and -her feet made not a sound as she tripped -over the soft grass. The wild rose bushes -offered her a sweet bouquet, and she plucked -a cluster of buds as she passed. In the -pleasure of that bright morning, Lucy forgot her -good resolutions. She did not think of her -kind Heavenly Father while enjoying His -beautiful world. Fear alone brought Him to -her mind: she remembered Him in the storm, -but forgot Him in the sunshine. -</p> - -<p> -Lucy was soon at Mrs. Tappan's gate, and -was raising the latch, when the large -house-dog came down the walk and stood directly -in the way. She thought he looked very -fierce, and did not dare to pass him. She -walked on a short distance and then came -back, hoping he would be gone; but no, he -had not moved an inch. While she was doubting -what to do, the school-bell rang; thrusting -the parcel into her pocket, she hurried on, -saying to herself, "As it is so late, I am sure -father will not blame me." -</p> - -<p> -She was hardly seated in school, however, -before she began to be troubled about what she -had done. "Perhaps Mrs. Tappan was very -ill," she thought; the shutters were all closed, -and her father had called there twice the day -before, and had already seen her that morning. -With such thoughts in her mind, of course Lucy -did not learn her lesson; although she held the -book in her hand, and seemed to have her eyes -fixed upon it. When she was called up to -recite, she blundered, hesitated, and utterly -failed. The tears now filled her eyes. Glancing -at the clock, she saw that it yet wanted a -quarter of ten. -</p> - -<p> -"Please, Miss Parker, may I go home?" -she asked. -</p> - -<p> -"Are you unwell?" asked the teacher, -kindly. -</p> - -<p> -"No," murmured Lucy. -</p> - -<p> -"Then go to your seat," said Miss Parker, a -little sternly; "and never ask me again to let -you go home unless you have a good reason." -</p> - -<p> -"I wouldn't mind her, she's as cross as she -can be," whispered Julia Staples, as she took -her seat at Lucy's side. -</p> - -<p> -Lucy knew Miss Parker was not cross, yet -she felt a little comforted by Julia's seeming -interested in her trouble, and placed her hand -in hers under the desk, as if to thank her new -friend; for Julia Staples had seldom spoken to -her before. -</p> - -<p> -Wearily the hours of school passed away. -At last the clock struck one, and the children -were dismissed. Lucy was hurrying off, when -Julia Staples called after her to wait, for she -was going that way. Lucy did not like to be -disobliging, and therefore stood still until her -companion was quite ready. -</p> - -<p> -"I hate school, don't you?" said Julia, as -they walked along. -</p> - -<p> -Now Lucy did not hate school, she generally -found it very pleasant; but she thought it -would seem childish to say so to a large girl -like Julia Staples; so she answered, rather -awkwardly, "Yes, I did not like it to-day." -</p> - -<p> -"I can't bear Miss Parker," continued Julia, -"she's so partial; I know you don't like her, -from the way you looked at her this morning." -</p> - -<p> -Lucy did like Miss Parker, for she had often -drawn the little girl to her side, and spoken -very tenderly to her, more tenderly than any -one had done since her own mother's death, -and she was therefore glad that they came that -moment to the road which led to Julia's home, -for there they must part. -</p> - -<p> -"Good morning," said Julia, not waiting for -an answer; "I shall call for you to-morrow," -and Lucy went on her way alone. She had been -almost led to speak unkindly of a person she -really loved, because she was afraid to say -boldly what was in her mind. -</p> - -<p> -As she came in sight of Mrs. Tappan's quiet -house, she saw her father coming out of the -gate, looking thoughtfully on the ground. He -did not see her, and she had to run very fast to -overtake him before he got into his chaise. -</p> - -<p> -"Father! dear father!" she said, "do stop -a minute; is Mrs. Tappan very ill? Do not be -angry with me, here is the medicine." -</p> - -<p> -The doctor looked quite serious while Lucy -told him of her fright in the morning, and her -sorrow after she reached school at not having -delivered the medicine. The dreaded dog was -standing within the gate while they were talking -without; the doctor called him and made Lucy -look into his mild eye and pat him gently. -"You see, my dear," said the father, as the -hand of the little girl rested on the head of the -quiet animal, "that you need not have been -afraid of Rover. You should have remembered -that in not delivering the medicine you might -be doing more harm to another than the dog -would have done to you. Even after you were -at school, all might have been well if you had -had the courage to tell the whole truth to your -teacher; she would certainly have excused you. -I cannot say what will be the consequence of -your foolish timidity. Mrs. Tappan is very ill!" -</p> - -<p> -As her father spoke these words, Lucy's tears -fell fast. Not another syllable was spoken -until they reached home. Harty came out to -meet them, calling out to his sister, "Are those -red eyes the sign of bad lessons?" She made -him no reply, but hastened to her room to think -on her own folly, and poor Mrs. Tappan. -</p> - -<p> -It was a long afternoon to the little girl; her -dinner was sent to her, and she remained alone -until dark. This was the day which had -commenced so pleasantly, and in which Lucy had -intended to please everybody. Alas! the poor -child had not asked God's help to enable her to -do her duty, nor had she been faithful in her -own exertions. -</p> - -<p> -When the tea-bell rang, she hastened down -stairs, hoping to hear from her father good -news about Mrs. Tappan, but he did not appear. -Harty seeing his sister look so unhappy, -forbore to tease her, and the meal passed over in -silence. Eight o'clock came, and Mrs. Maxwell -gave Lucy her light, and told her to go to bed. -She did not dare to ask to sit up a little longer, -for she knew the request would not be granted. -Feeling like a criminal, the little girl went to -her room—that pretty room, how many unhappy -hours she had passed there! but none more -wretched than on that evening. -</p> - -<p> -In vain she tried to sleep. Whenever she -closed her eyes, the form of the sick woman -would rise before her, and she could almost -fancy she heard her groans. Nine o'clock -struck, and ten, yet Lucy was awake. About -eleven she heard the street-door open; then -there was a careful step upon the stairs, and -some one moved towards the doctor's room. -She was out of bed in an instant, and hastening -towards the door. It was locked as usual, and -before she could open it, her father had passed. -She almost flew along the passage, and sought -his arm as he was entering his room. He -clasped her to his breast and kissed her -tenderly, saying at the same time, what she so -much wished to hear, "Thank God, Mrs. Tappan -is out of danger. You ought to be very grateful," -he continued, "my dear child, that your -fault has led to no evil; I trust that this will -teach you not to let childish fears lead you to -neglect your duty!" Much relieved she returned -to her own room, but no thanks were uplifted -from her young heart to Him who had been -pleased to spare the stroke of death. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap04"></a></p> - -<h3> -CHAPTER IV. -<br /><br /> -AN ANNOUNCEMENT. -</h3> - -<p> -All the family at the cottage were awake at -sunrise the next morning, and there was an -unusual bustle throughout the house. -Mrs. Maxwell was flying about with a duster in her -hand, giving her orders to the servants, and -working twice as busily as any of them. The -large room opposite to Lucy's was open, and -being put in thorough order. This room had -been occupied by Lucy's mother during her -illness, and had been kept closed since her -death. It had always seemed a gloomy place -to the little girl; she had peeped in when the -door chanced to be open to air the apartment. -Now it was undergoing an entire change; the -shutters, so long fastened, were thrown back, -and muslin curtains fluttered in the morning -breeze; neat covers had been placed on the -dark bureau and table; and on the latter -Mrs. Maxwell was placing a large India work-box -that had belonged to Mrs. Vale, and which -Lucy had not seen since she was a very little -child. -</p> - -<p> -Before going down to breakfast, she stepped -in to see the pleasant change more closely; she -was startled by meeting a mild glance from a -sweet face on the wall. It was her mamma's -portrait that looked thus gently upon her, and -she almost expected the kind face to bend down -to kiss her, as it had been wont to do when -that dear mamma was alive. Lucy had never -seen this picture before, and she could not help -wondering where it had come from, and why it -was placed there, where none of the family -could see it. Indeed, she was thoroughly -puzzled to understand what could be the cause -of all this commotion in the usually quiet house. -</p> - -<p> -Mrs. Maxwell poured out coffee in silence, -and Lucy asked no questions; but before they -rose from the table, Harty came bounding into -the room, crying, "Guess who is coming here, Lucy." -</p> - -<p> -"Isn't it cousin Jack?" asked Lucy, almost -sighing to think what a life she should lead -with the two boys to tease her. -</p> - -<p> -"Guess again," said Harty; and she did -guess all the aunts, cousins, and friends that -had ever been to make them a visit, but in -vain. When Harty had enjoyed her curiosity -long enough, he said, "Well, Miss Mouse" (a -name he often called her), "sister Rosa is -coming home to live, and she is to tell us what -to do, and be like a little mother for us! That's -what father told me." -</p> - -<p> -Lucy did not know whether to be glad or -sorry at this news; she had not seen her sister -for many years, and perhaps she might be -afraid of her, and perhaps Rosa might not care -for such a little girl as herself, even younger -than Harty. -</p> - -<p> -The excited boy was in a state of great -delight, and he talked to Lucy until she quite -entered into his feelings. "Won't it be nice," -he said, "to have Rosa at home? I shall offer -her my arm when she goes to church, and lead -you with the other hand. I shall lend her my -'Swiss Family Robinson;' I mean to put it in -her room, that she may read it whenever she -pleases. But she need not attempt to make me -mind her, for I sha'n't do it; I am not going to -have any girl set over me!" -</p> - -<p> -"Oh, fie! Harty!" said Lucy, "to speak so -of sister Rosa before you have seen her." -</p> - -<p> -"Before I have seen her!" repeated Harty; -"I remember her perfectly; I have not -forgotten how I used to play—she was my -horse—and drive her round the house; you were -only a little baby then." -</p> - -<p> -"Not so very little," answered Lucy, pettishly, -for her brother had made her feel as if it -were a disgrace to be young. -</p> - -<p> -While they were talking, Julia Staples called -to walk with her to school. Lucy soon told her -all about her sister's expected return. -</p> - -<p> -"I should not think you would like it!" -said Julia; "she'll want the nicest of everything -for herself, and make you wait on her, as -if you were her servant." -</p> - -<p> -Before they reached the school-house, Lucy -was quite sure that Rosa's coming would make -her unhappy. Julia Staples had been talking -with little thought, but she had roused evil -feelings in Lucy's mind which were strangers -there. She was not naturally envious, but now -her heart burned at the idea that her sister -would always be praised, and go out with her -father, while she would be left at home with no -one to care for her. Children do not think -enough of the harm they may do each other by -idle conversation. Julia might have -encouraged Lucy in feeling kindly towards her -expected sister, and have made her look forward -to the meeting with pleasure; but she filled -her mind with wicked, envious thoughts. -</p> - -<p> -Do my young friends ever think whether -they have roused wrong feelings in their -companions? Two children can hardly talk -together for half an hour without having some -influence over each other, for good or for evil. -The wrong thought that you have planted in -the heart of a child may strengthen, and lead -her to do some very wicked thing when you -have forgotten the conversation. -</p> - -<p> -A traveller once took some seeds of a very -valuable plant with him on a journey. From -time to time he cast them in the fields as he -passed, and when he was far away they sprang -up and were a great blessing to the people who -owned the fields. A wicked traveller might -have scattered the seeds of poisonous plants, -which would have grown up to bring sickness -and death to all who partook of them. Our -life is like a journey, and whenever we talk -with the people around us, we cast some seeds -in their hearts, those which may spring up to -bless them, or those which may cause them sin -and sorrow. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap05"></a></p> - -<h3> -CHAPTER V. -<br /><br /> -THE ARRIVAL. -</h3> - -<p> -"Your sister is to be here at ten o'clock, -and you must be ready to receive her," said -Mrs. Maxwell to Lucy, a few days after the -occurrences related in the last chapter. -</p> - -<p> -"Shall I put on my white frock?" asked -Lucy. -</p> - -<p> -"Nonsense! child," was the reply; "isn't -your sister to see you every day, from morning -to night, in whatever you happen to have on? -Go, get a clean apron, and make your hair -smooth, that is all the dressing that little girls -need." -</p> - -<p> -This idea did not suit Lucy, for she was very -anxious that her sister should love her, and she -thought if she were prettily dressed at first, she -would be more likely to do so. As she looked -in the glass while arranging her hair, she -thought she never had seemed quite so ugly. -The fact was, she was beginning to have a -fretful expression, which was spoiling her face. -Lucy had never heard that scowls must in time -become wrinkles. She was not at all pleased -with her simple appearance, but there seemed -no way for her to wear any ornament, not even -a hair ribbon, for her soft light curls were cut -so closely, that they could only lie like her -waxen doll's, in golden rings about her head. -</p> - -<p> -Lucy was fond of dress, and she would have -liked to wear jewellery to school, as many of -the scholars did, but Mrs. Maxwell never -allowed it. The little girl had a bracelet of -her mother's hair, and this she, one morning, -clasped on her arm under her apron, to be -worn on the outside after she reached school, -where Mrs. Maxwell could not see it. As she -stopped on the road to change it, there came a -sudden pang into her heart—she was deceiving, -and with the gift of her dead mother; perhaps -that dear mother could see her now, she -thought; and hastily putting down her sleeve, -she hurried to school. -</p> - -<p> -Though the bracelet was not displayed, and -no one around her knew that she wore it, she -felt guilty and unhappy until it was restored to -the box in which it was usually kept. The -remembrance of that day checked her this -morning, as she was about to place on her -slender finger a ring which had been her -mother's, and in her child-like dress, she went -down to wait for her sister. -</p> - -<p> -She found Harty at the front window, but -by no means in a fit condition to give Rosa a -welcome, for his face had not been washed -since breakfast, and his dark curls were, as -usual, in wild confusion. -</p> - -<p> -"Here comes Miss Prim!" he shouted, as -Lucy entered, "as neat as a new pin. For my -part, I don't intend to dress up for Rosa; she'll -have to see me this way, and she may as well -get used to it at once. I do wish she'd come, I -am tired of waiting; the clock struck ten five -minutes ago. Hurrah! there's the carriage!" -he cried, and was out of the room in an instant. -</p> - -<p> -Lucy longed to follow, but she seemed -fastened to her chair; there she sat, looking -anxiously out of the window, as the carriage -entered the yard and drove up to the door. -</p> - -<p> -Her father got out first, and then gave his -hand to a tall, slender girl, who sprang with -one leap to the stops, and was locked in Harty's -rough embrace. -</p> - -<p> -"But where is little Lucy?" she asked, when -Harty had ceased to smother her with kisses. -</p> - -<p> -The voice was kind and cheerful, and Lucy -stepped forward, hanging her head, and timidly -putting out her hand. -</p> - -<p> -Rosa overlooked the little hand, and clasped -the bashful child tenderly in her arms. -</p> - -<p> -Tears came in Lucy's eyes, she could not tell -why—not because she was unhappy, for she -felt sure she should love her sister. -</p> - -<p> -"God bless you, my children!" said -Dr. Vale, "may you be happy together. Rosa, -you must be a second mother to our little one. -Lucy, show your sister her room; I must leave -you now; I must not neglect my patients, even -to enjoy seeing my children once more together." So -saying, he drove from the door. -</p> - -<p> -Rosa's room had no gloomy associations to -her, for she had not been at home at the time -of her mother's death, and she only remembered -it as the spot where she had enjoyed -much sweet conversation with that dear mother, -now, she trusted, a saint in heaven. -</p> - -<p> -As her eyes fell on the truthful picture of -that lost friend, they were dimmed by natural -tears, which were soon wiped away, for why -should she weep for one whose pure spirit was -at rest? -</p> - -<p> -Rosa was a Christian; not that she never did -wrong, but it was her chief wish to do right. She -had just been confirmed, and felt most anxious -to do something to serve the Saviour, whose -follower she had professed herself to be. When -she received her father's letter recalling her -home, she found it hard to obey, for she -had been so long at her uncle's, that it was a -severe trial to leave his family circle, and to -lose his advice, which she knew she should so -much need, to keep her true to the promises -which she had now taken upon herself. -Mr. Gillette, with gentle firmness, pointed out to -his niece that it was her plain duty to return -unhesitatingly to her father's house. -</p> - -<p> -"You wish, dear Rosa," he said, "to be a -true follower of the Saviour, and to do -something for His cause. Go home to your brother -and sister, strive by example and kind advice -to lead their young hearts to Him who will -repay all their love. But be careful, my child, -while you are striving for the good of others, -not to neglect your own character. Be yourself -all that you wish to make them!" -</p> - -<p> -Rosa had returned with a true desire to be of -service to Lucy and Harty, and she had many -plans for their welfare. Just now she longed to be -alone for a few moments, that she might thank -her Heavenly Father for His protecting care -during the journey, and ask His blessing on -her new home. -</p> - -<p> -Her first impulse was to send the children -away, but she checked it, and made them quite -happy by allowing them to assist her in -unpacking. Lucy handled everything very carefully, -but Harty made Rosa tremble, by his way of -tumbling over her collars and ribbons. -</p> - -<p> -At last, all was unpacked but the little box -of books, which Harty insisted on opening -himself. "Run, get my hatchet," he said to Lucy, -who willingly brought it. -</p> - -<p> -"This is too small to work with," said the -eager boy, after a few moments' exertion, "get -me the large hatchet, Lucy." -</p> - -<p> -Lucy again obeyed; but her brother spoke -not a word of thanks when she came back, -breathless with running. This rudeness did -not escape Rosa, although she hoped it was -only occasioned by her brother's anxiety to -oblige her, and was not his usual manner. -</p> - -<p> -The obstinate nails at last came out, and all -the party sat down on the floor, and began -taking out the books. Harty looked at the -titles one after the other, and threw them aside -with disappointment; at length he said, -impatiently, "Are they all as sober as sermons? -I should think you were going to be a parson, -Rosa." -</p> - -<p> -"Not exactly!" said she, with a merry -laugh, "but you must not be surprised if I -preach a little sometimes. Then you don't -like my books; I am sorry for that, but I hope -we shall have a great deal of pleasure in reading -them together, by-and-by." -</p> - -<p> -"Not I," answered Harty; "I like stories -about shipwrecks and great soldiers, and strange -and wonderful things." -</p> - -<p> -"Then here is a book which ought to please -you," said Rosa, laying her hands on the -beautiful Bible which had been Mr. Gillette's -parting gift. "Do you not love to read it?" -</p> - -<p> -Harty hung his head, and answered, "There -are no nice stories in the Bible." -</p> - -<p> -"No nice stories in the Bible!" said Rosa. -She turned the leaves rapidly, and began to -read the story of Gideon. At first, Harty -looked very indifferent; but she read in a clear -voice, and animated manner, and by degrees -he dropped the books which lay on his lap, and -leaned his head on his hands, in rapt attention. -When she came to the attack on the camp of -the Midianites, he was ready to join the shout, -"The sword of the Lord and of Gideon!" -</p> - -<p> -"Where is it? where is it?" asked Harty, -when Rosa had finished, "I want to look at it -myself." -</p> - -<p> -She pointed to the place, and promised to -find him many more interesting stories, that -they could read together. -</p> - -<p> -Lucy meanwhile had crept close to Rosa's -side, and laid her hand upon her lap. "And -there is something to interest you, too, Lucy," -said Rosa: "here is the Prodigal Son, let me -read it to you." -</p> - -<p> -"Do! do! sister Rosa," said both of the -children. She needed no urging, and read the -short and beautiful parable with real feeling. -</p> - -<p> -Harty felt touched, he knew not why, but -with an effort to look unconcerned, he asked, -abruptly, "What does it mean, Rosa?" -</p> - -<p> -"It teaches us many sweet lessons, dear -Harty," answered Rosa; "I cannot well -explain them all to you, but I know that it is to -make us understand that God loves us as the -father loved his wandering son. Did you notice -that he knew the Prodigal when he was afar off, -and ran to meet him? So God sees when we -wish to do right, though nobody about us may -guess it, and He is ready to welcome us to His -love. Is it not strange that the Holy God -should love us so tenderly?" -</p> - -<p> -Harty looked wearied, and did not reply. -Lucy tried to speak, but she was almost -weeping, and her lips would not move. -</p> - -<p> -"Come, we must not talk any more," said -Rosa, cheerfully. "See how the things are all -lying about. Harty, can you take the box away -for me?" -</p> - -<p> -He started off, with a sense of relief, and -Rosa was left alone with her little sister. She -kissed the child gently, and said, "You must -tell me, some time, why those tears come so -quickly; I want to know all that troubles you, -and be your friend." -</p> - -<p> -Lucy only replied by placing her hand in -that of her sister. Harty now returned, and -they all went to work busily, and soon -arranged the books on the shelves of the bookcase. -</p> - -<p> -"Come, Rosa," said Harty, "I want to show -you my room, and to take you down in the -orchard;" and he seized her rather forcibly by -the hand. -</p> - -<p> -The room was still in confusion, and Rosa -would have preferred to stay and see her things -nicely put away, but she contented herself with -closing one or two of the drawers, and then -followed her eager brother. Lucy silently -went with them, keeping close to her sister's -side, now and then looking half-lovingly, -half-wistfully, into Rosa's cheerful face. -</p> - -<p> -Harty's room was a curiosity shop, filled with -all kinds of odd things that he had gathered -together. Mrs. Maxwell and he had been for -a long time at war about the birds' nests, nuts, -shells, stones, &c., that he was constantly -bringing to the house, and leaving about to -her great annoyance. On several occasions -she threw away his carefully collected treasures, -and at last, the young gentleman, in great -displeasure, went to his father and asked, "if he -might not be allowed, at least in his own room, -to keep anything valuable that he found in his -walks." His father consented, and after that -his room became a perfect museum. Stuffed -birds, squirrel-skins, and crooked sticks were -ranged on his mantel-piece, in a kind of order, -and the chest of drawers was covered with -similar specimens. -</p> - -<p> -From time to time, Mrs. Maxwell came -herself to dust among them, though Harty was -sure to complain after such visits that his -treasures had been greatly injured. On this -particular morning Mrs. Maxwell had been -thoroughly dusting, on account of the expected -arrival, and as Harty entered the room he -darted from Rosa, and carefully taking from -the shelf some twigs, with bits of spiders' web -attached to thorn, he angrily exclaimed, "Old -Maxwell has been here, I know! I wish she -would let my things alone! the hateful thing! -See here, Rosa, this was a beautiful web, as -perfect as it could be; I brought it only -yesterday morning, when it was all strung with -dew-drops, and now look at it! Isn't it enough -to make any one angry?" -</p> - -<p> -Rosa looked sorrowfully at her brother, and -made no reply for a moment; at length she -answered: "Dear Harty, you can find another -spider's web; but angry words once spoken can -never be taken back. Won't you show me what -you have here, and forget your trouble?" -</p> - -<p> -The hasty boy was soon engaged in explaining -what all the queer-looking things were, and -why he valued them. In some of them Rosa -was much interested: she had never seen a -titmouse's nest before, and as she took the -curious home in her hand, she thought of the -kind Heavenly Father who had taught those -little creatures to build it with such skill, and -had watched the nestlings from the time they -left the shell, until they flew lightly away on -their fluttering wings. -</p> - -<p> -"What can you be thinking about?" said -Harty, as she looked earnestly at the pretty thing. -</p> - -<p> -"Pleasant thoughts," said Rosa, smiling, as -she took from his hand a huge beetle. -</p> - -<p> -Lucy wondered to see her sister take what -seemed to her such a frightful thing so calmly -in her hand. "There now! I like that!" -shouted Harty, "she handles it like a boy. -There's Lucy, she screams if I put such a thing -near her, if it has been dead a month. Isn't -she a goose?" -</p> - -<p> -Lucy looked anxiously at Rosa, fearing she -would say something unkind. -</p> - -<p> -"Oh! yes, she is a little goose," was the -reply, "but such a dear little goose, that I am -sure I shall love her very much. We must -teach her not to be afraid of trifles." -</p> - -<p> -The timid child clasped Rosa's hand more -closely, and inwardly resolved to try to please -her sister in everything. She even touched -with the tip of her finger a snake-skin from -which she had always shrunk before, as she -heard Harty and Rosa admiring it, while they -handled it freely. -</p> - -<p> -Some of the specimens which Harty seemed -to think very precious were uninteresting to -Rosa, and some were even disgusting; but she -looked at all, and tried to discover the beauties -which Harty so eagerly pointed out. -</p> - -<p> -Her uncle had taught her that politeness is -a Christian duty, and to be always shown, even -to nearest relatives, and to those younger than -ourselves. -</p> - -<p> -Harty was delighted, and slapped Rosa on -the back in token of his pleasure. "You are a -glorious girl!" said Harty; "why, if that had -been Lucy, she would have cried, and said I -always hurt her." -</p> - -<p> -"You forget," said Rosa, "that Lucy is a -delicate little girl; you cannot play with her as -you would with a boy. You must take care of -her, as the knights of old guarded their -ladye-love, and handle her as carefully as you would -a bird's nest." -</p> - -<p> -At this Harty laughed, and Lucy smiled. -</p> - -<p> -"Now for the orchard," cried Harty; and -away he ran, pulling the girls so rapidly along -that they could hardly keep from falling down -stairs. -</p> - -<p> -A pleasant place was that orchard; the grass -was fresh and short, and some of the branches -of the old trees bent almost to the ground. -Under these Harty had placed wooden seats, -and there it was his delight to study. Very -little studying he accomplished, though, for his -eye wandered at one moment to a ripe apple -on the topmost bough, and the next to a -curious insect that was creeping on the trunk -near him. -</p> - -<p> -Rosa placed herself on the rustic seat, and -looked upward through the waving branches to -the clear blue sky above, and a half smile came -over her face, that Harty did not understand. -He did not guess that the sweet scene was filling -the heart of his sister with love to the great -Creator. Nor did Lucy understand her any -better; but the expression on her sister's -countenance made her warm with love towards her. -</p> - -<p> -Harty soon grew restless, and engaged his -companions for a race. Away they flew over -the soft grass, and Rosa was the first to reach -the fence, which had been agreed upon as the -goal; Lucy came next, while Harty, puffing -and panting, brought up the rear. -</p> - -<p> -"I declare that was not fair," he began; "we -did not start together." -</p> - -<p> -"Never mind," said Rosa; "we girls ought -to be the fastest runners, for that is all we can -do in danger. Girls run, while boys must stand -and defend themselves and their sisters." -</p> - -<p> -This view of the case suited Harty, and -reconciled him to his defeat; and they -continued chatting amicably in the orchard and -piazza until the bell rang for them to prepare -for dinner. As they entered the house, -Mrs. Maxwell met them, and looking sternly at Rosa, -she said, "I hoped you were going to set a -good example, Miss Rosa, to these careless -children, but there I found your room all in -confusion, while you were out running races. Your -father has reckoned without his host, if he -looks to you to make them particular." -</p> - -<p> -Rosa knew that it had cost her an effort to -leave the room in that condition, and that she -had done so to please her brother. She did not -defend herself, however, for she now saw that -it would have been better to make him wait a -few moments. Hastening up stairs, she soon -found a place for everything, and put everything -in its place, and as she did so, she resolved -not to let her anxiety to win the affection -of her brother and sister lead her astray. -</p> - -<p> -Dr. Vale looked very happy, when he sat -down to dinner with his family about him. He -was pleased with Rosa's easy, cheerful manner, -and delighted to see Lucy's face lighted with -smiles, and Harty doing his best to act the -gentleman. And acting it was, for anything -like politeness was far from being habitual with -him. -</p> - -<p> -When they rose from the table, Dr. Vale led -his eldest daughter to her room, and entering -it, closed the door. The doctor walked towards -the portrait, and gazed at it a few moments in -silence, then, turning to Rosa, he said, with -some emotion, "You do not, I fear, remember -your mother distinctly, my child. I have had -this life-like image of your mother placed -where it will be ever near you, that it may -remind you of the part that you must act to the -dear children. May God bless and assist you -in your task: pray earnestly to Him to watch -over you and guide you, and you cannot fail. -And now, dearest, never think me cold nor -stern, when I am silent. My professional -cares often weigh so heavily upon me that I -notice but little what is passing around me; -but nothing can so absorb my mind as to make -me indifferent to the welfare of my children. -Come to me with all that troubles you, and you -shall find a father's heart, though perhaps a -faltering tongue." -</p> - -<p> -The doctor pressed his daughter to his bosom, -kissed her forehead, and left the room. As -soon as he had gone, Rosa fell on her knees to -implore the God of all good to strengthen her -for the great task that was before her, and to -enable her to make herself such an example as -the children might safely follow. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap06"></a></p> - -<h3> -CHAPTER VI. -<br /><br /> -AN ACCIDENT. -</h3> - -<p> -In about half an hour there was a gentle -tap at Rosa's door. It was Lucy, who -entered timidly, and going towards Rosa, said, -blushing, "Don't mind Mrs. Maxwell, dear; -she often speaks in that way to me, when she -don't mean anything." -</p> - -<p> -"Mind her! No and yes: she will not -worry me; but I shall be glad to have some -one to make me remember to be neat at all -times. Where's Harty?" said Rosa. -</p> - -<p> -"He's getting ready to go to the woods: he -wants you to go with him." -</p> - -<p> -"With all my heart," answered Rosa. "Are -we to go now?" -</p> - -<p> -"Yes, as soon as we can put on our bonnets," -said Lucy, as she went to her room, to get her -things. She put on a pair of thin slippers, -although she knew they were to cross a damp -meadow, for she could not make up her mind -to wear the thick boots that were so much more -suitable. Lucy had certain articles of dress -which it gave her great pleasure to wear, -and these shoes were among the favourites. -Many a cold and sore-throat they had cost -her, but her vanity was not overcome even -by such consequences. -</p> - -<p> -Hand in hand the three children walked -merrily along, chatting as pleasantly as if -they had not been parted for years. -</p> - -<p> -Rosa and Harty declared that they liked -to step on the soft meadow, that it was like -a rich carpet that yielded to their feet. Their -shoes were so thick that they did not feel the -dampness, and they had no idea how -uncomfortable Lucy was, in her thin slippers, -thoroughly soaked with the moisture. They -soon entered the woods, where the tall trees -grew so close together that they almost shut -out the pleasant sunlight. Here Rosa found -so much to admire that she was constantly -exclaiming with delight. She had not lived in -the country since her childhood, and there was -a charm in everything that met her eyes. -Sometimes she was struck with new beauties, -and sometimes she was reminded of by-gone days. -</p> - -<p> -"Do you remember, Harty," she said, "how -we came here together, when you were a little -bit of a boy, and made a house under that tree -for my doll to lie in? And have you forgotten, -when we where gathering chestnuts just here, -and I found I had lost my shawl, and how we -hunted, and found it at last hanging on the -fence by the meadow?" -</p> - -<p> -Harty remembered these and many other -occasions when he had enjoyed rambles with -his sister; and they continued calling the past -to mind, until poor Lucy felt quite sad that she -knew nothing of what caused them so much -pleasure. She grew silent, and at last -withdrew her hand from Rosa, as she thought, -"Yes, it will be as Julia Staples said, Harty -and Rosa will go together, and not care for me." -</p> - -<p> -The sun was just setting when they drew -near home on their return. They had taken a -long walk, but Lucy had not recovered her -spirits, although Rosa, perceiving that she was -not happy, had done all in her power to amuse -her. Lucy felt half inclined to laugh and enjoy -herself occasionally, but then the wicked, -jealous thought would come up in her mind, -and she grew sober again, and coldly answered -her sister's cheerful remarks. -</p> - -<p> -They had walked through the woods quite -round to the back of the house, and were -almost to the pleasant orchard, when they came -to a wide brook, which they must cross to reach -the by-path that led to the house. A single -plank was placed across the stream. Harty -ran gaily over, and went up the hill on the -other side without looking behind him. -</p> - -<p> -"Let me lead you over," said Rosa, kindly -offering her hand to her little sister. -</p> - -<p> -"I had rather go by myself," answered Lucy, -sullenly, and placed her foot on the plank. She -walked tremblingly on until she was half over, -then the plank shook a little, and she grew -frightened, swayed from side to side, lost her -balance, and fell into the brook. -</p> - -<p> -Lucy's shriek attracted the attention of -Harty, who was by this time some distance up -the hill, and he hastened towards her; but she -had scarcely sunk in the water before Rosa had -leaped from the bank and caught her in her -arms. -</p> - -<p> -The stream was rapid, and the fearless girl -could hardly have kept her footing had she not -caught hold of the plank above with one hand, -while with the other she carried the -half-fainting Lucy. -</p> - -<p> -They reached the opposite side in safety, and -Harty was there to assist them in climbing the -bank. Great tears stood in his eyes, not from -fright for Lucy, but from admiration of Rosa's -courage. -</p> - -<p> -"You are a sister worth having!" were his -first words. "How I wish you were a boy!" -</p> - -<p> -Poor Lucy, what pain these words gave her! -Although she had been in such danger, Harty -only thought of Rosa! -</p> - -<p> -The true-hearted sister, meanwhile, was -lifting her thoughts in thankfulness to Him who -had enabled her to save the life of the child. -</p> - -<p> -Lucy was too weak to walk home, and Rosa -and Harty formed a lady-chair with their arms, -and carried her safely up the hill, Rosa laughing -at their ridiculous appearance in their wet -clothing, for she had plunged into the stream -up to her neck. -</p> - -<p> -"Here we are! all safe and sound!" shouted -Harty, as Mrs. Maxwell came out to meet the -strange-looking party. -</p> - -<p> -"A pretty-looking set you are! Do not -come into the house in that condition!" was -Mrs. Maxwell's reply. "Pray where have you -been?" she continued: "I wonder if we are -to have such doings all the time." -</p> - -<p> -Rosa gently but firmly replied, that Lucy -had been in great danger, and she thought she -ought to be undressed immediately, and placed -in a warm bed. -</p> - -<p> -There was something in Rosa's quiet, -dignified manner that awed Mrs. Maxwell: -she came forward and took Lucy from their -arms without another word, while Rosa -hastened to her room to put herself in order -to wait upon her sister. In a few moments -she was neatly dressed, and standing by Lucy's -bedside. -</p> - -<p> -Dr. Vale had returned, and having heard -from Harty an account of the matter, was -soon with his little daughter. He ordered a -warm draught to be administered, and said he -did not think she needed any other medicine, -as she seemed not to be really injured, only -much agitated by the fright. -</p> - -<p> -He kissed the little girl tenderly as he -thought how near he had been to losing his -pet, and greatly praised Rosa's promptness -and courage in saving her from the death with -which she was threatened. -</p> - -<p> -Lucy could not thank her sister, for she -felt guilty, as she remembered the unkind, -suspicious thoughts that were in her mind -when the accident happened. She shuddered -at the idea that she might have died while -her spirit was so unfit to go into the presence -of the holy God. She felt that she had been -very wicked, and she could not believe that -God would pardon her. -</p> - -<p> -"I know I shall be very ill," she said to -herself, "because I was so naughty, and -perhaps I shall die, and then nobody would -care, and Harty and Rosa would be just as -happy." -</p> - -<p> -This last thought checked her half-formed -resolution to tell her sister of her wrong -feelings; and she turned away from the kind -face that was bending down to her, and said, -"I wish you would go away, I had rather be alone." -</p> - -<p> -Rosa did go, but only to the door of her own -room that was opposite: there she placed her -chair, that she might be near, if Lucy should -be lonely or want anything, little thinking -what was in her sister's heart. -</p> - -<p> -Lucy lay very still all the evening. Rosa -thought she was sleeping, and did not disturb -her. During those long, dark hours, Rosa was -not sad. She had many pleasant thoughts. -She liked to be alone, sometimes, for then -she could more fully realize that God was with -her. -</p> - -<p> -Nine o'clock came, yet Rosa did not like to -leave her sister: often during the evening she -had stolen to her side to see if she were still -sleeping. Once she stooped and kissed her; -then Lucy longed to throw her arms around -the neck of the kind watcher, and say that she -had not been asleep; but something kept her -silent. -</p> - -<p> -At ten, the doctor came in. Rosa stole -softly down stairs and told him how quiet the -little girl had been during the evening. -"But, dear father," she said, "I do not like -to leave her alone to-night. May I not lay her -in my bed, where I shall be sure to know if -she wakes, and wants anything?" -</p> - -<p> -"Certainly, dear," was the father's reply, -"and I will carry her myself, carefully, that -she may not wake. She is too heavy for you -to lift, though you did take her so nobly -through the water, my darling." -</p> - -<p> -The doctor took the little girl gently in his -arms; she did not seem to be awake, but oh! how -guilty she felt all the time, to think that -she had cherished harsh feelings towards one -who wished to be so kind to her; and -ashamed she felt that she was even then -deceiving; but she had not the courage to -open her eyes and say that it was all pretence. -Rosa covered her very carefully, and placed -her head comfortably on the pillow, and then -began to move about noiselessly, preparing for -the night. -</p> - -<p> -Lucy was just closing her eyes, thinking her -bed-fellow was about to lie down beside her, -when Rosa threw her wrapper round her, and -taking her small Bible, sat down to read. She -did not once raise her eyes or move, while she -was reading, yet Lucy could see that her -expression changed from time to time, as if she -was very much interested. There was a sweet -peacefulness on her countenance as she closed -the book, and Lucy resolved to open at the -mark the next morning, that she might read -herself what had had so pleasant an effect. -</p> - -<p> -She then looked up and saw that Rosa was -kneeling, with her eyes raised, and praying -earnestly in a low voice. Lucy was almost -startled, Rosa seemed so really to be speaking -to some one, and she involuntarily looked -about to see if there were any one in the room. -</p> - -<p> -She had been so long accustomed to merely -prayers herself, that she had almost -forgotten that prayer is always speaking to -God. -</p> - -<p> -By degrees she rose in the bed and leaned -eagerly forward to catch the words, which were -scarcely audible as she lay on the pillow. -</p> - -<p> -She heard her sister earnestly ask pardon for -the sins she had just been confessing, while -she thanked her Heavenly Father with the -confidence of a child for His free forgiveness; -and then she prayed, oh, how earnestly! that -God would enable her to watch over her -brother and sister, and lead them to the dear -Saviour, the only source of real happiness, -and for whose sake she knew all her petitions -would be granted. Before she rose, she -begged to be enabled to remember that the -Saviour was beside her, through the dark -night to preserve her from all harm. -</p> - -<p> -As Rosa finished her prayer, Lucy sank -down in the bed, overcome with awe. God -was really in the room; Rosa had spoken to -Him, and seemed to know that He had heard -her. What must His pure eye have seen in -her own heart! how much that was wrong! -Could He forgive? In a few moments the -light was extinguished, and Rosa was at her -sister's side. She lay very still at first, that -she might not waken the sleeper, but very soon -a little hand was laid in hers, and Lucy gently -whispered, "Dear Rosa, do you really think -the Saviour is near us?" -</p> - -<p> -Rosa was startled to find her companion -awake; but she took the little hand instantly, -and said, "Yes, dear Lucy, He is with us -always." -</p> - -<p> -"Doesn't it make you afraid," said Lucy, -"to think so?" -</p> - -<p> -"Afraid to think He is near us, dearest! -Why, He is our best friend! Do not you love -Him, Lucy?" -</p> - -<p> -Lucy began to sob, and said, at last, that it -always frightened her to think about such -things, and she never did, unless something -reminded her that she must die. -</p> - -<p> -"My dear little sister," said Rosa, "God -loves you: you need not be afraid of Him, -if you really wish to please Him." -</p> - -<p> -"But I can't please Him, I can't do right," -sobbed Lucy. -</p> - -<p> -"I know you cannot," Rosa replied, "but -He will forgive you for Jesus' sake, and help -you, if you ask Him." -</p> - -<p> -"But I forget all about it," said Lucy. -</p> - -<p> -"It is very hard to remember at first, that -God is always with you, and you are trying to -be His child. I know, dear Lucy, that you -must wish to love and serve the kind Heavenly -Father who has done so much for you: begin -to-night; ask Him to make you His child, and -to take care of you." -</p> - -<p> -Lucy made no answer, but in silence she did -as her sister had advised, and God who seeth -all hearts received and answered her simple -petition. -</p> - -<p> -The few words that Rosa had said, dwelt -in her mind. "God loves you," she thought, -again and again, as she lay in her quiet bed; -and when her eyes closed in sleep, it was with -the remembrance that the God who loved her -was near to watch over her. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap07"></a></p> - -<h3> -CHAPTER VII. -<br /><br /> -SUNDAY MORNING. -</h3> - -<p> -Sunday morning came, and the sun was -fairly risen before either of the little girls was -awake. Rosa was the first to open her eyes: -she would willingly have taken another nap, -but the first stanza of a morning hymn occurred -to her mind, and she remembered her resolution -to overcome her laziness. -</p> - -<p> -As she repeated— -</p> - -<p class="poem"> - "Awake, my soul, and with the sun<br /> - Thy daily course of duty run,<br /> - Shake off dull sloth, and early rise<br /> - To pay thy morning sacrifice,"<br /> -</p> - -<p class="noindent"> -she got up very carefully that she might not -rouse her sister. "I will let the child sleep a -little longer," she said to herself, "for she is -so pale, I don't believe she is quite well." -</p> - -<p> -It was a beautiful morning: the fields and -orchards were bright with the sunshine, and -the birds seemed singing even more happily -than usual. As soon as Rosa had dressed herself, -and finished her usual devotions, she went -down stairs to enjoy the fresh air. As she -walked in the garden, the conversation she -had had with Lucy the evening before passed -through her mind. What her uncle had said -to her about being useful to her own family -seemed about to be realized. "Poor little -Lucy," she thought: "may God help me to -lead the dear child in the right path." -</p> - -<p> -Harty heard Rosa's footsteps in the garden, -and was soon at her side. "Here, brother, is -something for your museum," was her greeting, -and she pointed to a chrysalis which hung on a -low rose-twig by the path. "Is it not beautiful? -Just look at the silver spots!" -</p> - -<p> -"It is a capital specimen," answered Harty, -as he carefully broke the little branch to which -it was fastened: "I wonder what kind of a -butterfly it will be. Rosa!" he added, "I -did not think you would like such things as -these." -</p> - -<p> -"Not like the beautiful things God has -made!" exclaimed Rosa. "Why, I love to -look at every little object in nature, and think -that our Heavenly Father planned it and made -it so perfect. It seems easy to believe that He -notices all our little joys and troubles, when wo -see that even the smallest insect is made with -such care." -</p> - -<p> -As Rosa spoke, her eyes sparkled and she -looked around her, as if every object which was -in sight was a proof to her of the love of the -kind Creator. Harty made no answer, but -looked thoughtfully at the chrysalis as they -entered the house together. -</p> - -<p> -The breakfast-bell was ringing, and they met -Lucy in the hall. She glanced slyly towards -her sister, remembering the conversation of the -evening before. Rosa kissed her cordially, -and, hand in hand, they went to the table. -</p> - -<p> -"Perhaps Miss Rosa had bettor pour out -coffee," said Mrs. Maxwell stiffly to the doctor, -as the children came in. -</p> - -<p> -"Would you like it, Rosa?" asked her father. -</p> - -<p> -Rosa saw that Mrs. Maxwell looked displeased, -and, in a moment, it passed through -her mind, that perhaps she would not like to -give up the place she had held so long to one -so young as herself, and she quickly said,— -</p> - -<p> -"May I put that off a little longer, father? -I am afraid I could not suit you as well as -Mrs. Maxwell does; she has made tea for you -a great while." -</p> - -<p> -"A long time, dear child," said the doctor; -and his thoughts went back to the days when -his delicate wife sat opposite him, her sweet -face growing paler each morning, until at last -her weak hands could no longer do their office, -and Mrs. Maxwell took her place. -</p> - -<p> -Rosa knew of what her father must be thinking, -and she did not speak for several minutes. -At length she said, "Is old Mr. Packard any -better to-day, father?" -</p> - -<p> -"I have not seen him yet," was the reply. -"I shall have to make a round of visits this -morning," continued the doctor, "so I shall -not have the pleasure of taking my tall -daughter to church to-day: I leave that to -Harty." -</p> - -<p> -Harty looked very proud at the idea of -waiting on his sister. Little Lucy listened in -vain to hear something said about her forming -one of the party. She resolved, at least, to get -ready, and perhaps no one would object to her -going. -</p> - -<p> -When they rose from the breakfast-table, -Rosa went to her room, thinking she should -have a quiet hour to herself before it was time -to prepare for church; but Lucy and Harty -followed her. The rules had been very strict -at Mr. Gillette's: the young ladies seldom, -visited each other in their bed-rooms, and then -never entered without knocking. -</p> - -<p> -The freedom with which her sister went in -and out of her apartment was already an -annoyance to Rosa, and her first impulse was -to send them away, that she might read her -Bible alone, as she had intended. Then her -confirmation vow came to her remembrance. -She had promised "to love her neighbour as -herself, to do unto others as she would they -should do unto her." Would she like to be -sent away from a person she loved? and was it -not a part of her duty to make those around her -happy? Her first impulse was conquered, and -she turned cheerfully to the children, who felt -uncomfortable for a moment, they hardly knew -why, and said, "Come, let us sit here by the -window; I am going to read, and you shall -listen to me, if you please." -</p> - -<p> -They looked delighted. Lucy dropped upon -a low footstool by her sister's side, and Harty -stood watching eagerly to see what was to be -the chosen book. He seemed disappointed when -Rosa took up her little Bible, and shook his -head when she asked him if he would not take -the vacant chair beside her. -</p> - -<p> -She began to read in the fifth chapter of -Mark, "And, behold, there cometh one of the -rulers of the synagogue, Jairus by name; and -when he saw Him [Jesus], he fell at His feet, -and besought Him greatly, saying, My little -daughter lieth at the point of death: I pray -thee, come and lay thy hands on her, that she -may be healed; and she shall live." -</p> - -<p> -Rosa had taken great pains to learn to read -properly and pleasantly, for her uncle had told -her that to be an agreeable reader was one way -of being useful. Now her voice was sweet and -natural, and she seemed herself so interested, -that Lucy caught her spirit even before the -"little daughter" was mentioned; but at these -words her attention was fixed, and she listened -eagerly to hear what was to follow. -</p> - -<p> -Harty, meanwhile, stood rolling the corner -of the neat white curtain in his hands, which -were not particularly clean, and looking -undecidedly about him. When Rosa finished the -sentence, he hurried from the room, saying, -"I'm going to see my chickens." -</p> - -<p> -She glanced at the soiled curtain and then at -Harty as he closed the door: for a moment she -looked fretted, but it was only a moment; a -sweet smile took the place of the half-formed -frown, and she went on with the reading. -</p> - -<p> -Lucy had heard the story before of the -raising of the ruler's daughter, but now it -seemed quite new to her, and her eyes were -bright with wonder and pleasure, as her sister -closed the book. -</p> - -<p> -"Rosa," she said, "I should like to have -been that little girl!" -</p> - -<p> -"Why?" said Rosa, -</p> - -<p> -"Because—because," answered Lucy—"because -she must have been so glad to be alive -again. I wonder what she said when they told -her all that had happened." -</p> - -<p> -"I hope she thanked the land Saviour, and -learned to love Him very dearly." -</p> - -<p> -"How sorry she must have been that the -Saviour could not stay and live at her home, -and take care of her always," said Lucy. -</p> - -<p> -"Lucy," said Rosa, "the same thing may -happen to you as to that little girl; but after -Christ has said to you, Arise, you may live -with Him always." -</p> - -<p> -Lucy looked half-frightened, and answered, -"I don't understand you. I should have to -die first;" and she shuddered at the thought. -</p> - -<p> -"No; you may have Christ with you always, -without dying, but you cannot see Him. He -will take care of you, and you can speak to -Him, and He will do what you ask Him. If -you remember that He loves you and is ever -at your side, when you come to die it will seem -like opening your eyes to see the kind Friend -who has been so long with you." -</p> - -<p> -Lucy's eyes filled with tears, and in her -heart she wished that she loved the Saviour as -Rosa did. "I will try and remember that He -is with me," she said to herself; and for the -first time the idea was pleasant to her. Before -she had only thought of God as seeing her -when she was doing wrong, and it had always -been a very painful thought to her. -</p> - -<p> -Many minutes had passed when Lucy started -up, saying, "There goes the church bell; it is -time to get ready." -</p> - -<p> -Rosa and Lucy were quite ready, when -Harty came running into the room, his hair in -its usual tumbled state, and his coat dusty and -torn. "Oh! I have had such a chase," he -said: "one of my 'bantys' got out, and I had -to jump over the fence and chase him all over -the orchard before I could catch him. And see -here, where I tore my coat putting him back in -the coop. Why! you are all ready: is it -church-time?" -</p> - -<p> -"Yes, indeed," answered Lucy; "and I hate -to be late, people all look at you so." -</p> - -<p> -"I hate to be late, too," said Harty; "I do -like to watch the people come in." -</p> - -<p> -"Harty! Harty!" interrupted Rosa; "don't -talk so. Make haste and get ready." -</p> - -<p> -"Never mind me," said Harty; "you walk -on, and I can catch up with you: it won't take -me but a minute to change my coat—these -trowsers will do." -</p> - -<p> -"But, Harty, you will have to brush your -hair and your shoes, and wash yourself. It -would not be respectful to the place where you -are going to enter in such a plight." -</p> - -<p> -"Pshaw!" said Harty, angrily; "I will not -go at all; you can find your way, with little -Lucy to open the door for you." -</p> - -<p> -Rosa was tempted to leave him, for she, too, -disliked to be late at church, but not for either -of the reasons that had been mentioned. She -liked to be in her seat before the service -commenced, that she might have time to -collect her thoughts, and be ready to join with -the congregation in the solemn worship of God. -</p> - -<p> -"My brother ought not to stay at home," -she thought: "it will be better to wait for -him, even if we are late." "Come, Harty," -said she, encouragingly, "we will help you, -and you will soon be ready." -</p> - -<p> -Lucy was dispatched to the kitchen for the -shoes that had been cleaned, for Harty's cap, -pocket-hankerchief, another clean collar, &c.; -in short, she had so many things to run for, -that she stopped on the landing, so weary that -she was glad to take breath. There -Mrs. Maxwell met her, and said, "Take off those -things, Lucy Vale; you ought not to think of -going to church after the wetting you got -yesterday. Your father didn't say you might -go; I noticed it this morning." -</p> - -<p> -"But I am quite well," pleaded Lucy. "I -think he would let me go, if he were at home." -</p> - -<p> -"But he is not at home. At noon you can -ask him. Go now and undress as fast as you -can." Without another word Mrs. Maxwell -passed down stairs. -</p> - -<p> -Lucy dropped down upon the lowest stop, -and began to cry bitterly. -</p> - -<p> -"Ready at last!" shouted Harty: "now -Lucy, my Prayer Book." -</p> - -<p> -But no Lucy came. Rosa and Harty came -towards her, and wore astonished to see her -face wot with tears. -</p> - -<p> -"What is the matter?" asked Rosa: "have -you hurt yourself?" -</p> - -<p> -"No!" sobbed Lucy; "but Mrs. Maxwell -says I must not go to church." -</p> - -<p> -"Pooh! is that all?" said Harty; "why, you -are not always so fond of church-going!" -</p> - -<p> -This was true, for Lucy often stayed away -from church when Mrs. Maxwell did not oblige -her to go; but on this particular morning she -wanted to go with her sister, whom she was -beginning to love very dearly. -</p> - -<p> -"But why mustn't you go?" asked Rosa. -</p> - -<p> -"Because I got in the water yesterday, and -Mrs. Maxwell says I am not well." -</p> - -<p> -"Never mind, dear," said Rosa, "perhaps -father will let you go out this afternoon. Don't -cry any more; we shall not be gone long. Good-bye." -</p> - -<p> -Harty was rather glad that Lucy could not -go; he never liked to take Lucy anywhere with -him. Perhaps he thought it made him appear -more like a mere boy to have his little sister by -his side, or that she was not fit to associate with -so wise a gentleman as himself. -</p> - -<p> -If his sister Rosa had felt as ungenerously -and unkindly to those younger than herself, -she would have at least laughingly refused the -arm which he offered her as they went down -the walk. But she took the arm, although she -had to stoop a little in doing so, and talked -with her brother as if he really were the man -he was trying to appear. -</p> - -<p> -As Harty was thus honoured, he looked back -triumphantly at poor Lucy, who was still -watching them. A pang of envy shot through -the heart of the little girl. Julia Staples's -evil words came to her mind; the bad seed was -springing up. "Rosa and Harty will always be -together; they won't care for me," she thought. -But good seed had been sown by Rosa, and it, -too, now sprang up. "God loves me," thought -the little girl; "if I try to please Him I shall -be happy." -</p> - -<p> -She rose and wont into her own pretty room: -there she put everything carefully in its proper -place, and felt a new pleasure in doing so; for -it was her duty. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap08"></a></p> - -<h3> -CHAPTER VIII. -<br /><br /> -STAYING AT HOME. -</h3> - -<p> -The house was very still, and as Lucy moved -about she was half startled at the sound of her -own footsteps. She went into her sister's room -to sit, for she fancied that it was more pleasant -than her own; and then all Rosa's books were -there; perhaps she might like to look at some -of them. -</p> - -<p> -The Bible was on the table; she took it up. -"Rosa, from her Uncle Gillette," was written -on the blank leaf; and before it were several -sentences. They were as follows:—"Remember -when you open this book, that God is with you, -that He is speaking to you. Remember to ask -God to bless to you what you read. When you -close the book, think over what you have been -reading, and take the first opportunity to -practise it." -</p> - -<p> -As Lucy read the first sentence, a fooling of -awe stole over her; and she almost trembled to -think how often she had carelessly opened the -word of God, and hurried over its sacred -pages. Now she reverently turned to the place -where her sister had left the mark the evening -before. The story of the storm on the sea of -Galilee caught her eye: as she read it she felt -sure that it must have been that sweet narrative -which had so fixed Rosa's attention when she -watched her. -</p> - -<p> -Lucy repeated, again and again, the words of -the blessed Saviour, "Why are ye so fearful, -O ye of little faith?" They seemed addressed -to her by the kind Friend who stilled the -tempest, and who, Rosa had said, would be -ever with her to take care of her, if she would -love Him and strive to be truly His child. "I -will, I will love Him, and try to please Him," -she said, half-aloud. "I should never be -afraid, if I were sure He would watch over me." -</p> - -<p> -She took up the Prayer Book, and read -the verses with which the Morning Service -commences. Some of them she did not quite -understand; but when she came to "I will -arise, and go to my father, and will say unto -him, Father, I have sinned against heaven, -and before thee, and am no more worthy to be -called thy son," she was reminded of the -day when her sister had read to her the sweet -parable from which those words are taken, -and how she had said that one purpose of the -parable was to show how willing God is to -receive all those who really come to Him. -Again her purpose strengthened to be His -child, who could so freely forgive. -</p> - -<p> -Lucy had been over the same Service almost -every Sunday since she had been able to read, -and could now find all the places without -assistance, but she had hardly noticed many parts -of it, and to some she had listened, while they -were repeated by others, as if she had no part -in the matter. Now the exhortation, "Dearly -beloved brethren, the Scripture moveth us in -sundry places," seemed so direct and simple, -that she wondered she could ever have heard it -without feeling for how important a purpose -she had come into the house of God. -</p> - -<p> -With a strange feeling of solemnity, she -knelt down and began to repeat the Confession -aloud. The words were so simple and natural, -and so true, that she seemed rather to be -speaking what had long been in her heart, than -repeating what had been spoken by many voices -around her from Sunday to Sunday, while she -thoughtlessly glanced on the page, or let her -mind wander to other things. As she said, -"We have done those things that we ought -not to have done," little faults she had -committed, acts known only to herself, came -thronging on her memory. Among these painful -recollections was the falsehood she had told about -the light the morning after the thunder-storm. -The whole fearful scene of that night came -back to her: again she seemed standing, -trembling and alone, in the passage, while the -incessant lightning appeared to threaten her -with instant death. So long she dwelt on these -circumstances, that she quite forgot she was on -her knees, speaking to the mighty God of -heaven. Suddenly it flashed upon her, and -she started up, as if she feared He would -immediately punish her for seeming to be praying, -while her thoughts were far away. Lucy -had begun to realize that prayer is something -more than merely repeating a form of -words. -</p> - -<p> -The little girl had hardly risen from her -knees before there was a ring at the door. She -set off immediately to save Betsy the trouble of -coming up stairs, for the poor old woman -suffered much from rheumatism, and Lucy -knew it gave her great pain to move about. -"I will go, Betsy," she called, as she passed -the stairway. -</p> - -<p> -A ragged Irishman was standing at the door. -Lucy was almost afraid to turn the key, lest he -should lay hold of her with his hard, rough -hands: she felt inclined to call out to him to -go away, as the doctor was not at home; but -she thought of the misery that giving way to -her fear of Mrs. Tappan's dog had cost her, -and her father's reproof, and she resolved that -no poor sufferer should go uncared-for because -she was afraid to speak to a man in ragged -clothes. -</p> - -<p> -She threw the door wide open, and was quite -relieved when the Irishman took off his hat, -and asked her very respectfully, "Is the -doctor in?" -</p> - -<p> -"He is not," answered Lucy, promptly: -"where shall I tell him to call?" -</p> - -<p> -"Sure and it's jist down the lane, forninst -Bridget O'Brady's: he can't miss it, for isn't -it the poorest bit of roof in the place? and tell -him to come quick, if you plase, miss." -</p> - -<p> -The man turned to go away, but Lucy called -after him, not at all satisfied that the direction -would be sufficient. "What is your name?" -she asked; "I want to put it down on the slate -for my father." -</p> - -<p> -"It's Owen M'Grath, plase you; and don't -be afther stopping me, for who will be minding -the baby, and the mother so sick, while I am -jist talking here?" So saying, he hurried from -the door. -</p> - -<p> -Lucy had very little idea how the name was -to be spelt, but she put it down as well as she -could, the direction and all, and looked at it -quite proudly when it was done. It was neatly -written, but oh, the spelling! -</p> - -<p> -"Who was that, Miss Lucy?" called Betsy. -</p> - -<p> -"An Irishman with a queer name: he says -he lives by Bridget O'Brady's," was the reply. -</p> - -<p> -"Oh! dreadful!" shouted Betsy. "Why, -Miss Lucy, they've got the small-pox in all -them dirty little houses; you've ketched it for -certain. Go, take off every rag of clothes you've -got on, and throw them into the tub there in -the yard: I don't know who'll wash 'em. I -am sure I should not want to touch 'em with -a broomstick." -</p> - -<p> -Poor Lucy, pale and trembling, ran up stairs -and did as Betsy had advised. Even in the -midst of her fright she could not help thinking -that she was glad it was her calico, not the -favourite silk, that she happened to have on, -since she must thrust it into the water, to lie -there till some one should dare to remove it. -</p> - -<p> -The happy birds were still singing about the -pretty cottage, and the trees were waving in the -sunshine, but Lucy did not see them; her -hands were pressed tightly over her eyes, and -she rocked to and fro, thinking of all the -horrible stories she had heard about the disease -which Betsy said she had "ketched for certain." -</p> - -<p> -"I shall be very ill," she thought, "and who -will dare to nurse me? Perhaps I shall die; -and if I get well, my face will be all marked, -so that nobody will like to look at me. I -wonder if Rosa would be afraid to sit by my -bed, if nobody else would stay with me. I -should hate to see her face all pitted. How -badly I should feel if she should take the -small-pox from me. Perhaps I shall give it to her if -I see her now." At this last thought, Lucy ran -into her own little room. There she sat sobbing -until church was out. She forgot that there -was a Friend with her, in that quiet room, who -could have given her comfort, if she had called -on Him in her trouble. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap09"></a></p> - -<h3> -CHAPTER IX. -<br /><br /> -THE KING AND HIS WEAPONS. -</h3> - -<p> -Rosa and Harty were scarcely out of the -church door before he began, "Oh! Rosa, did -you see how grand Madam Maxwell looked, -when she moved for you to take the end of the -pew? It was as much as to say, 'I suppose, -little miss, you think you ought to sit here, but -you are very presuming.' I would have taken -it if I had been in your place. It made me mad -to see her settle herself so satisfied, when you -refused." -</p> - -<p> -"Fie, Harty!" answered Rosa; "Mrs. Maxwell -is a great deal older than I am, and -it is far more suitable that she should have the -most comfortable seat. I should be sorry if my -coming home interfered with her in any way. -She has been most faithful in taking charge of -the house since—since—" since our dear -mother died, Rosa would have added, but her -eyes filled and her voice failed her. The -familiar scene in the church had brought her -lost mother freshly before her, and she well -remembered when they last trod that same -path together. -</p> - -<p> -After a few moments she recovered herself, -and said, "When I last passed this spot, -Harty, our dear mother was with me. She -had been talking very sweetly to me, as we -walked, of the blessing we had in being able to -go out that pleasant morning, and worship God -with His people, while so many poor invalids -must remain at home, and even dear father -could not be with us. Just here, I asked her -a question which had long been in my mind. -I had always noticed that as soon as she entered -the pew, she knelt down for a few minutes. I -wondered what that was for, as I could not -find anything about it in the Prayer Book. -'Mother,' said I, 'what do you say when you -kneel down before church begins?' 'I make a -short prayer,' she answered, 'that I may -remember that I am in God's house, and that He -will teach me to worship Him aright. Many -people,' she continued, 'who come early to -church, quite forget that they are in the house -of God as much before the service begins as -afterwards, and spend the time until the -clergyman comes in, in looking about and observing -their neighbours, until their minds are quite -unfit to join in any solemn duty. I think the -habit of asking the blessing of God on the -prayers you are about to offer, and the truths -you are about to hear, is a great help in -reminding you immediately that you are with -the Lord in His holy temple.' 'Won't you -teach me a little prayer to say, that I may do -as you do?' I asked. 'Yes, darling,' she -answered, with one of her sweet, loving smiles; -and as we walked by this hedge, which was -just planted then, she taught me these words, -which I have said, many, many times since -our dear mother was taken by her Heavenly -Father to a better world:— -</p> - -<p> -"'Lord, make me remember that I am in -Thy house. Keep me from dullness and -wandering thoughts. Hear my prayers to-day, -and bless to my soul the truths I shall hear, -for Jesus Christ's sake. Amen.'" -</p> - -<p> -Harty listened with interest to every word -that Rosa tittered: he often wanted to hear -some one talk of his mother, but it was too sad -a subject for his father to speak freely upon, -and Lucy could hardly remember her. -</p> - -<p> -Rosa gladly perceived that he was interested, -and added, "I will write out the little prayer -for you, Harty; I know you will like to keep -it, and use it, for our dear mother's sake." -</p> - -<p> -Harty looked embarrassed, but he did not -refuse his sister's offer. She immediately -changed the subject by saying, "Poor little -Lucy will be glad to see us by this time. I -hope she can go out this afternoon. I like to -have her with us." -</p> - -<p> -Harty wondered that Rosa should wish for -the society of such a child as Lucy; but his -respect for her involuntarily rose when he found -that Rosa spoke affectionately of her. -</p> - -<p> -As they drew near the house, they caught a -glimpse of Lucy looking sorrowfully from her -window. She did not run to meet them, as -they expected, but old Betsy came out saying, -"Oh! only think of it! Miss Lucy has got -the small-pox, I know she has. There's been a -man here that must have it, for he lives down -by Bridget O'Brady's, where they are dirty -enough to make them all ill." -</p> - -<p> -Rosa was startled for a moment, but she -answered calmly, "But Lucy has been vaccinated, -Betsy; she would not take the small-pox -even if the man really had it." -</p> - -<p> -"I don't believe nothin' at all in <i>vaxnation</i>," -said Betsy; "it don't stand to reason. I telled -Miss Lucy she'd ketched the small-pox, and I -believe she has." -</p> - -<p> -"Poor child!" said Rosa; and she ran -hastily up stairs. Harty did not follow, for -although he laughed at Lucy's timidity, he was -a bit of a coward about some things himself; -and old Betsy's words had alarmed him not a -little. -</p> - -<p> -"Let me in, Lucy," said Rosa's sweet voice -entreatingly; "I could not take the small-pox -if you had it." -</p> - -<p> -Lucy gladly unfastened the door. Rosa -took the trembling girl in her lap. For a few -moments Lucy sobbed violently, and not a -word was spoken; at length Rosa said, -tenderly, "Dear Lucy, there is no danger of -what you dread so much. Here, let me look -at those little arms: there is the scar where -you wore vaccinated when you were a baby, -that you might never take the small-pox. -Your kind father took good care that his little -Lucy should not have her smooth face all -pitted." -</p> - -<p> -"Can't I have it?" asked Lucy, the tears -still in her eyes. -</p> - -<p> -"No! certainly not!" was the reply. -</p> - -<p> -"But, dearest," continued Rosa, "you may be -exposed to other diseases quite as dangerous. -I wish you could learn to trust the Heavenly -Father, who loves you more dearly even than -our own papa; then you would not be afraid of -anything. Shall I tell you what I heard uncle -Gillette saying to one of the little girls at -school, who was afraid of lightning." -</p> - -<p> -"Oh! do," said Lucy; "I am so frightened -when it thunders." -</p> - -<p> -Lucy nestled closer in her sister's lap, and -Rosa began. -</p> - -<p> -"There was once a mighty king who was so -terrible in war that all his enemies were afraid -of him; the very sound of his name made -them tremble. His arm was so strong that the -horse and its rider would sink under one blow -of his battle-axe; and when he struck with -his sharp sword, his enemies fell dead at his -feet. This mighty king had a little fair-haired -daughter, who watched him as he prepared for -the battle. She saw him put on his helmet, -and laughed as the plumes nodded above his -brow. She saw the stately battle-axe brought -forth; she saw him take his keen sword in his -hand; he tried its edge, then waved it about -his head in the sunlight. She laughed as it -glanced sparkling through the air; and even -while it was upheld she ran towards her father -to take a parting kiss. Why was not the little -child afraid of the mighty king with the fierce -weapons? Because he was her father; she -knew that he loved her, loved her as his own -life. She knew that those dangerous weapons -would never be used against her unless to save -her from worse peril. Do you understand -what uncle Gillette meant by this story?" -</p> - -<p> -"Not exactly," said Lucy; "won't you tell me?" -</p> - -<p> -"He meant," said Rosa, "that God is like -that mighty king. Sickness, lightning, danger, -trial, death, are all His weapons; but we need -not fear them if we are truly His children. -When the sharp lightning flashes in the sky, -we can look calmly at its beauty, for it is in -our Father's hand. Sickness may be around us, -but our Father can keep us safe. Death may -come, but it will only be to send us to our -Father's arms." -</p> - -<p> -"But I am not His child," half sobbed Lucy. -</p> - -<p> -"His child you are, my dear little sister: -His loving, obedient child, I hope you will be." -</p> - -<p> -At this moment the dinner-bell rang. Rosa -waited till Lucy could wash away the traces of -her tears and smooth her hair, and then they -went down stairs together. Mrs. Maxwell -looked up with a smile as Rosa came in; her -thoughtful deference was beginning to have its -effect. -</p> - -<p> -"Hurrah! for the small-pox!" shouted -Harty, as Lucy came in. He had heard from -his father that the danger was imaginary, and, -forgetting his own fears, he quite despised -Lucy for her fright. -</p> - -<p> -"Come here, my little patient," said the -doctor to the blushing child. "I don't wonder -my pet was frightened: old Betsy ought to be -ashamed for being so foolish. Poor Owen -M'Grath could injure no one; his sorrow is his -worst disease. You see I made out the name -in your spelling, and I am obliged to my little -girl for trying to write the message so exactly. -Owen had as neat a little home as you could -wish to see, but it is a sad, sad place now. His -poor wife has long been ill with consumption; -she died this noon, and there is no one to take -charge of his little baby but his daughter, who -is only as old as you are, Lucy." -</p> - -<p> -"Can we not do something for them, father?" -asked Rosa. -</p> - -<p> -"How like her mother," thought the doctor. -"Yes, dear child," he replied; "I will take -you to see them to-morrow." -</p> - -<p> -"May I go too?" asked Harty, eagerly. -</p> - -<p> -The father smiled and nodded his head. -"We will not leave little Lucy behind, either," -he added, to her great delight; "that is, if she -is well enough. My pet looks a little pale yet. -You did well, Mrs. Maxwell, not to let her go -out this morning." -</p> - -<p> -Mrs. Maxwell gave a glance at Lucy, which -made her drop her eyes. -</p> - -<p> -"I shall not be at home to hear your -catechism this evening, Lucy," said Mrs. Maxwell, -as she left the dinner-table; "I am going to -see a sick friend after church, as Miss Rosa can -take my place at tea-time." -</p> - -<p> -"Willingly," said Rosa, "and hear the -catechism too," she added, internally. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap10"></a></p> - -<h3> -CHAPTER X. -<br /><br /> -THE HAPPY SUNDAY EVENING. -</h3> - -<p> -Sunday afternoon passed away very rapidly -to Lucy. She spent the time while her brother -and sister were at church in reading a little -book which Rosa had lent her. -</p> - -<p> -As the children sat together in the twilight, -after tea, Rosa said to Lucy, "We used to call -you baby and pet at first: do you know when -we began to call you Lucy?" -</p> - -<p> -"Not till I was two months old, I've heard -father say." -</p> - -<p> -"Yes; I well remember the morning that -you took your new name," continued Rosa. -"It was a bright day in June. Dear mamma -was so kind and cheerful then. I can see her -now as she came in to breakfast, so slender and -pale, and yet with such a calm, happy look on -her face. -</p> - -<p> -"'You must call the baby Lucy after to-day,' -she said to me, as I kissed her that -morning. -</p> - -<p> -"'And why, dear mother?' I asked. -</p> - -<p> -"'Because she is to be baptized to-day, and -take Lucy for her Christian name,' answered -our mother. -</p> - -<p> -"'But why is the baby to be baptized?' I -childishly asked. She took no notice of my -question then; but after breakfast was over, -she called me to her side, and said, 'Shall I tell -my little girl a story?' -</p> - -<p> -"'Oh, do!' I answered, and she began. -</p> - -<p> -"'There was once a little child who lived in -a very small cottage, with a scanty grass plat -before it. This child had a pet lamb, of which -she was very fond. She loved it so dearly that -she often sat on the door-step and anxiously -thought how she should ever be able to keep it -from harm as it grew older, and would be -tempted to run away from the cottage, around -which there was not even a light paling. Then -winter must come, and how would the poor -little lamb be protected from the storm? -</p> - -<p> -"'These thoughts were one day in the child's -mind, when an old traveller came to the cottage -door, and said to her, "I have a message to you, -dear child, from the shepherd who feeds his flock -on yonder green hill. He has noticed you and -your little lamb, and he wants to be a friend to -you. He knows that you will never be able to -keep your pet from harm, although you love it -so tenderly; and he bade me say to you, that -he is willing to take your lamb to be one of his -flock, to feed in that green pasture and drink -from the clear stream that is ever flowing there. -It shall be safely gathered to his fold when the -storms of winter beat, and shall be guarded -from all cruel beasts. You can see it every -day, and caress it, though you must never try -to lead it away from him. Shall we go -together and lead the little lamb to the kind -shepherd?" -</p> - -<p> -"'"Yes!" shouted the child, joyfully; and -she took the old traveller's hand, and gently led -the lamb away by the blue ribbon that was -about its neck. -</p> - -<p> -"'It was but a short distance they had to go, -yet the traveller found time to tell the child, as -they walked together, that if her lamb learned -to know the shepherd's voice, and follow him, -he would take it some day to a beautiful land, -where it could hunger and thirst no more; -where there would be no more storms, nor cruel -beasts, and where she might meet it and dwell -for ever with the kind shepherd and his blessed flock. -</p> - -<p> -"'The child did not see the kind shepherd; -but the peaceful sheep, feeding on the delicate -food, or lying beside the clear water, were -there, and she did not fear to leave her pet -among them. Day by day she saw her lamb -grow stronger and happier, and more pure and -gentle, and she rejoiced that she had placed it -among the favoured flock. -</p> - -<p> -"'One day the little child grew dizzy and -faint: all things around her seemed fading -from her sight, and her dim eyes could only see -a strange figure which seemed beckoning her -away. -</p> - -<p> -"'Then at her side she heard the voice of the -old traveller who had visited her before: "Fear -not," said he; "you are going to the beautiful -land where the kind shepherd dwells." Then a -pang shot through the heart of the child, for -she thought of the lamb that she must leave -behind her. The traveller guessed her thoughts, -and answered, "Your little lamb is in the care -of the kind shepherd!" Then the eyes of the -child were bright, and she said, "I don't fear -for my little lamb: I am happy that I placed -him where he will be so tenderly cared for, -when I did not know that I so soon must leave -him. May he learn to know the kind shepherd's -voice, and follow him, that we may meet -again in the beautiful land." -</p> - -<p> -"'The cottage was soon all silence: the child -no longer went singing from room to room, but -she was happy, far away in the blessed land -which the kind shepherd prepared for his -faithful flock.'" -</p> - -<p> -"'Did the little lamb go to meet her there?' -I asked, as dear mamma stopped as if she had -finished the story. -</p> - -<p> -"'I cannot tell you, Rosa,' she answered, -and fast the tears fell from her eyes. 'By the -lamb I mean your little sister, and the kind -shepherd is the Saviour, to whom I am to give -her to-day. God only knows whether our little -Lucy will reach the blessed land.' -</p> - -<p> -"'But you are not going away, mamma, as -the child did,' I said, my eyes, too, filling with -tears, for I too well understood her meaning. -</p> - -<p> -"'Perhaps not very soon,' she answered, and -smiled away her tears." -</p> - -<p> -Lucy was still silent, and Rosa went on, for -both Harty and Lucy were earnestly listening. -</p> - -<p> -"When you were carried up the aisle, dear -Lucy, all in your white clothing, you seemed -to me like the little lamb of which mother -had spoken, and I felt that you were being -received into the flock of the kind shepherd. You -smiled when the water was sprinkled on your -forehead, and I was so glad, for that made you -seem willing to be placed in His care." -</p> - -<p> -Lucy listened to the story of the child and -the lamb; and when she heard its explanation -her heart was full, and she inwardly resolved -that she would try so to follow the -Saviour here, that she might join her mother -at last in His blessed land. As Rosa recalled -the circumstances of her Baptism, she for the -first time realized that it had really happened, -that her name had been really given by her -"sponsors in Baptism." -</p> - -<p> -"Was I there too?" asked Harty, beginning -to be restless, as there was a short pause. -</p> - -<p> -"Yes, indeed! and so eager to see the -ceremony that you climbed on to the seat, and -leaned forward to look until you fell with a -loud noise, just as the baby was being carried -out of church. You always were a noisy -fellow," said Rosa, as she laid her hand -affectionately on her brother's clustered curls. -</p> - -<p> -"Did I cry?" asked Harty. -</p> - -<p> -"No; you thought yourself too much of a -man for that, even then; and how fondly, -proudly, mamma looked at you, as you closed -your little lips and stood up without a sound, -though there was a bright red mark on your -forehead where you had struck it." -</p> - -<p> -It seemed strange to Harty that he was willing -to sit still and listen to a girl; yet he found a -pleasure in being with Rosa different from any -he had ever felt. He had always been quite -indifferent as to what Lucy thought of him, -but that Rosa should not be pleased with him -was a very unpleasant idea. As a child he had -tenderly loved his mother; and when she was -taken from him, a blank had been left in his -heart which had never been filled. Now half -the charm of Rosa's society consisted in her -being able to speak of that mother, and revive -his now fading remembrance of her. -</p> - -<p> -"Come," said Rosa, "let us say our Catechism -together: I will ask the questions, and -we will all repeat the answers." -</p> - -<p> -Lucy was delighted at the idea, and readily -joined her voice with Rosa's. She found it -difficult to keep with her sister in reciting, as -Rosa repeated her answers slowly, as if she -really meant what she was saying. As she -pronounced the words, "a member of Christ, a -child of God," she looked meaningly at Lucy; -and then it flashed through the little girl's -mind, that she was indeed the child of God, as -her sister had said; His child, not only because -He had made her, but because she had been -made His by Baptism; and again she resolved -to be His "loving, obedient child." -</p> - -<p> -At first Harty did not join in saying the -Catechism; he had for some time given up the -practice as a thing only for such children as -Lucy; but when he saw that Rosa did not -think it beneath her, as they came to the -Apostles' Creed his voice mingled with the -others. Rosa took no notice of it save that she -placed her hand in his, and they went on. In -some of the long answers Lucy faltered, and -Harty halted entirely; but Rosa smoothly -continued until they could again join her. As -Harty repeated the once familiar words, he -recalled the time when he had learned them from -that mother who was now a saint in Paradise. -With those familiar words returned the -precious lessons of love and holiness which she -had spoken, but which he had forgotten amid -the sport and recklessness of boyhood. -</p> - -<p> -When they had finished, he was quite -softened, and his voice was very gentle as he -replied to Rosa's proposal to sing, "Yes, if I -know anything you do." -</p> - -<p> -Lucy was fond of music, but she could not -sing: she laid her head on her sister's lap, and -listened to the simple hymns with a feeling of -peace and happiness. Another and another -hymn was sung, until, at last, the clock struck nine. -</p> - -<p> -"Nine o'clock," said Harty, "and Lucy not -in bed! what would Mrs. Maxwell say to -that?" -</p> - -<p> -Lucy had been fast asleep, and was not a -little frightened when she heard it was so -late. She took a candle immediately, kissed -her sister and wished her good night. Oh! what -pleasure it gave her when Harty said, -"Me, too, if you please," and really looked -fondly in her face. -</p> - -<p> -That night she forgot to look for robbers; -she was too happy to think of them; but she -did not forget the many blessings of the day -when she repeated her usual thanksgiving. -The same prayers she had often said she used -that evening; but they went up from her heart, -and were received in heaven for the Redeemer's sake. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap11"></a></p> - -<h3> -CHAPTER XI. -<br /><br /> -JUDY M'GRATH. -</h3> - -<p> -Often, during school-hours on Monday, the -promised visit to Owen M'Grath's came into -Lucy's mind, and she longed for four o'clock to -come, that she might be at liberty. School -was over at last, and with the pleasant -consciousness of having done well the duties of the -day, Lucy tripped towards home. Julia Staples -had tried several times to draw her into a -whispered conversation, but she had resisted -the temptation; and when Julia offered her an -apple, and put her arm in hers, to draw her -aside for a confidential chat, Lucy refused the -gift and got away as soon as she could with -politeness. She had learned that the first step -towards doing right, is to keep as much as -possible out of the way of temptation; and she -knew that Julia's society roused her evil -feelings. -</p> - -<p> -"Dear me, how stuck-up somebody is!" -said Julia Staples to one of her companions, as -Lucy turned away. -</p> - -<p> -Lucy heard the remark, and her face flushed -slightly, but she made no reply. -</p> - -<p> -Julia did not offer to accompany Lucy home, -but with two of the scholars, who were much -like herself, she walked behind the little girl, -"making fun of her." Of this Lucy knew -nothing. Lightly and rapidly she walked -along, not looking behind her, but welcoming -each turn in the road that brought her nearer -home. -</p> - -<p> -Rosa and Harty were standing at the door to -meet her. "I do believe you were kept in," -began Harty; "we have been waiting for you -this half-hour." -</p> - -<p> -"Come, come! young gentleman," interposed -Rosa playfully, "you are in such a hurry -to wait on the ladies, that the time seems long -to you. It is but five minutes past four." -</p> - -<p> -The teased, fretted expression that was -coming over Lucy's face passed away in an -instant, and Harty's impatience was changed to -a smile. -</p> - -<p> -The children, set off together in high spirits. -Even Rosa, although she know she was going -to the house of mourning, caught something -of their spirit, and chatted cheerfully by the -way. -</p> - -<p> -Dr. Vale was just driving up to Owen's door -when they arrived. -</p> - -<p> -"That's right! all punctual," said he, as he -alighted; and when he looked upon their -bright faces, he felt thankful that his little -group had been so far spared from sickness and -death. The happy young voices were hushed -in an instant, as they entered the dark, quiet -room, into which the street-door opened. -There was but a little furniture, and that of the -plainest sort, yet all was neat and tidy. The -pale, lifeless form of the mother was stretched -upon the bed, and close at its side there nestled -a sleeping infant, rosy with health. -</p> - -<p> -The little girl, who was sitting beside them, her -head on her hands, jumped up as the strangers -came in. She instantly recognised the doctor, and -said, in a low voice, "Won't the docther plase to -be sated, and the young gintleman and ladies?" -</p> - -<p> -Noiselessly she put forward the chairs, and -whispered as she did so, "Whisht! the poor -babby has been grievin' so I could not hush him -at all, and sorra a bit would he sleep till I laid -him there by poor mammy, and then he cuddled -up to her cold side and seemed quite contint." -</p> - -<p> -"Poor baby!" said Rosa, the tears in her eyes. -</p> - -<p> -They all drew near to the bed, and looked -into the face of the dead. Harty gave one -glance and then stepped to the door; he could -not bear it; he felt a choking in his throat to -which he was quite unaccustomed. -</p> - -<p> -As Rosa and Lucy looked upon the calm, -sweet expression of the face, they felt no chill -of horror. Death seemed less terrible to Lucy -than it had ever done before. "She is happy -now?" half questioned she of Rosa. -</p> - -<p> -Rosa looked puzzled, but the doctor replied, -"Yes, she is happy. 'I'm going home,' were -her last words. She has only gone to be with -the Friend whom she has served faithfully -through life." -</p> - -<p> -"Did you say mammy was happy?" asked -Judy, the little girl who had been acting as -nurse. -</p> - -<p> -"Happy with the angels in heaven," was -the doctor's reply. -</p> - -<p> -"Then I'd not want her back again, to be -sorrying here. Little peace she's had, with -that misery in her side, for many a day. Why, -the lifting of Larry there, was enough to make -her all put to it for an hour. Poor fayther, he -can't get along with it all: sorra a bit has he -tasted to-day, and he cried fit to break his heart -when he went away to work this morning; but -he said he must go, for he'd niver a sixpence to -pay for the burying." -</p> - -<p> -The poor little girl had been so long alone -that it seemed to be quite a relief to her to talk -to some one who felt for her. -</p> - -<p> -"You'll be a comfort to him, I know," said -Rosa, gently. -</p> - -<p> -"I'll lave nothing untiched that I can turn -my hand to," answered Judy, earnestly. -</p> - -<p> -The talking, although it was in a low voice, -waked Larry, and he began to moan piteously. -He put out his hand, touched the cold face near -him, and then drew it quickly away. He -half-raised his head, but seeing that it was his -mother's cheek that had so startled him, he -again put forth his hand and patted her gently -until he was again asleep. -</p> - -<p> -"And what will poor Larry do when they lay -her in the cold ground?" said little Judy, half -crying. -</p> - -<p> -"He will soon be comforted," whispered -Rosa: "God will take care of you both. It -must have been a long time since your mother -has been able to sew," she continued, to divert -Judy's mind from her trouble. -</p> - -<p> -"Ach! yes. She has not set a stitch for two -months gone; and there's Larry, with sorra a -bit of clothes but them he has on, savin' this -thrifle of a frock that I've been trying to wash -for the burying." -</p> - -<p> -As she said this she put her hand on a little -faded calico frock that was hanging near the -window. -</p> - -<p> -"I think we can get some clothes for Larry," -said Rosa: "may I take this home with me for -a pattern?" -</p> - -<p> -Judy looked a little confused, but she -answered, "Sartainly, miss." -</p> - -<p> -"Can you sew, Judy?" asked Rosa. -</p> - -<p> -"I never was learnt," was Judy's reply. -</p> - -<p> -"Would you like to have me teach you? If -you would, you may come to me every Saturday -morning, and I will show you how." -</p> - -<p> -Judy's eyes brightened, and she was going -to accept the offer very gladly, when she -thought of Larry, and changed her mind. -</p> - -<p> -"I can't lave Larry; there's nobody but me -to mind him now." -</p> - -<p> -"You may bring him with you; I know Lucy -here will take care of him," said Rosa. -</p> - -<p> -"Oh yes, I will, if he won't be afraid to -stay with me," said Lucy. -</p> - -<p> -Before they left the house it was agreed that -Judy should come the next Saturday morning -for her first lesson in sewing, if her father did -not object. -</p> - -<p> -Dr. Vale, who had been standing without -the door with Harty, met the girls as they -came out. He stepped back when Judy was -alone, and placed some money in her hand, -telling her to give it to her father, and say to -him, that his children should not want for a -friend while Dr. Vale was in the neighbourhood. -</p> - -<p> -Judy curtseyed, and spoke her thanks as well -as she was able, but they were not heard, for -the doctor hurried away, and in a few moments -had driven from the door. -</p> - -<p> -Very little was said on the way home. As -they passed an old house, with a rough, high -fence about it, Harty told his sisters that this -was where the people had been sick with small-pox. -</p> - -<p> -Lucy clasped Rosa's hand a little closer, and -they both stopped more rapidly. -</p> - -<p> -"Father says nobody need be afraid, for they -have all got well, and nobody took it from -them," said Harty. -</p> - -<p> -Notwithstanding this assurance, all the party -felt more easy when the house with the high -fence was out of sight. -</p> - -<p> -"Let us stop here and buy the cloth for -Larry's frocks," said Rosa, as they reached the -village shop. -</p> - -<p> -While Rosa was looking at some cheap -woollen cloth, Harty was fumbling in his -pockets. He drew out some marbles, an old -knife, a peg-top, and some bits of string, and -at last he found what he was seeking—a -half-crown, with which he had intended to buy some -new fishing-tackle. He gave one longing look -at the money, and then handed it to Rosa, -saying, "Take that for the cloth." -</p> - -<p> -"Yes," said she, very quietly; but a bright, -loving smile was on her face, and Harty felt, -happy, although he was blushing as if he had -been in mischief. Like many boys, Harty -seemed to feel more ashamed when he did right -than when he did wrong. -</p> - -<p> -When the children were gathered round the -table in the evening, Rosa brought out the old -dress, and was just putting the scissors to it -when Mrs. Maxwell exclaimed, "What are you -doing, child? are you going to cut that dress to -pieces?" -</p> - -<p> -"I was going to rip it for a pattern," -answered Rosa, mildly. -</p> - -<p> -"I suppose you think I could not cut out a -frock nice enough for a little Paddy boy," said -Mrs. Maxwell. -</p> - -<p> -"Oh no, I did not think that!" Rosa replied, -smiling; "I should be very glad to have -you help us." -</p> - -<p> -Mrs. Maxwell took the scissors, and the -frocks were soon cut out, much to Rosa's relief, -for although she had resolved to do it, it was -her first attempt at dressmaking, and she was -afraid that she should only spoil the cloth. -</p> - -<p> -Then the sewing commenced, and the needles -flew so fast that there was little time for talking. -Lucy was allowed to make the skirt, and she -sewed it as carefully as if it had been an apron -for her doll, and that was very nicely. -Mrs. Maxwell put on her spectacles and began to -sew too, much to Rosa's surprise; and once she -offered to turn the hem for Lucy, when she saw -that she was troubled. It seemed as if the -work they were doing put them all in a good -humour, for every face was bright and happy. -Even Harty felt as if he had something to do -in the business, and instead of fidgeting about -as usual, annoying everybody, he sat very still -for some time, doing no harm, but breaking off -thread from the ball and tying it into knots. -At last he said, "Shall I read to you?" -</p> - -<p> -"Yes, do," said Rosa and Lucy, both at once. -</p> - -<p> -"Well, I will, if Lucy will get my Natural -History off my table." -</p> - -<p> -Lucy jumped up in a moment, and ran for the -book: the hall-lamp showed her the way until -she got to the room door, and then, by the faint -starlight, she easily found the volume. There -were other books which Rosa would have -preferred, and Harty was a very dull reader; but -she listened patiently, and got quite interested -at last in an account of an elephant that went -mad in London, a favourite story with Harty. -</p> - -<p> -Lucy was very sorry when bed-time arrived; -but there was not a word to be said, for -Mrs. Maxwell put the lamp in her hand, and bade -her "Good night" most decidedly. -</p> - -<p> -As Lucy entered her own pretty room, she -thought of little Judy watching beside her dead -mother in that poor cottage, and she wondered -that it had never struck her before that God -had surrounded her with so many blessings. -</p> - -<p> -Judy's washing had not been very well done, -and as Rosa thought best to send back the little -frock as soon as possible, she was in haste to -have it made clean. -</p> - -<p> -After Lucy had gone to bed, she went to -the kitchen with it in her hand. Old Betsy -was sitting by the fire, looking very stupid -and cross. Rosa was almost afraid to ask her -to do what she had intended. She took courage, -however, and said, "Betsy, I want you to wash -this little frock for a poor boy who has no other -to wear but the one he has on. I know you -would be glad to do it, if you had seen the poor -little fellow lying by his dead mother: he has -nobody at home to wash his clothes now." -</p> - -<p> -Betsy had looked very sour when Rosa -commenced, but softened as she continued to speak, -and when Rosa finished, she took the little -frock in her hand, saying, "I suppose I shall -ketch something, handling this thing, but I -can't say no to you, for you are the image -of your mother." -</p> - -<p> -"Thank you, Betsy," said Rosa; "I hope -I may be like my mother. You need not do -the frock to-night; it will be time enough in -the morning. The funeral is not till three -o'clock to-morrow afternoon, and I can get -Harty to take it down after school." -</p> - -<p> -"I guess Master Harty will not be running -for anybody," said Betsy to herself, as Rosa -went up stairs; but she was wrong: Harty -did go, and took with him, besides, a penny -cake, that he had bought for Larry. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap12"></a></p> - -<h3> -CHAPTER XII. -<br /><br /> -THE VISITOR. -</h3> - -<p> -Rapidly, happily, the weeks flew by at -Dr. Vale's cottage: there seemed to be a new -spirit at work there. Lucy no longer looked -sad and drooping: there was always a bright -face to welcome her return from school, and -some one to listen to her account of the occurrences -of the day. If her lessons were difficult, -Rosa was always ready to explain them, and -to encourage her to more persevering study. -By degrees, Lucy was learning to share all -her feelings with her sister. Sometimes Rosa -found these confidences rather tiresome, but -she never checked them, as she Was anxious -that Lucy should speak to her without -restraint, that they might be able to talk freely -on the most important of subjects. -</p> - -<p> -Many of Lucy's fears seemed to have passed -away without effort as she became more -cheerful; others she had been enabled to conquer -by Rosa's kind advice; but the great secret -of the new courage that she seemed acquiring, -was found in the few words, "God is with me, -God loves me," which were seldom far from -Lucy's mind. -</p> - -<p> -At first she could not help feeling that when -she had done wrong, God had ceased to love -her. Then Rosa would read to her passages -from the Bible where the Saviour speaks of -having come to save sinners, and would -remind her, again and again, that she was God's -own child. -</p> - -<p> -"God made you, my dear Lucy," she would -frequently say; "and He loves everything -that He has made, and 'would not that any -of His little ones should perish.' Christ has -died that you may be forgiven; He has -promised to receive all that truly come unto Him; -His child you were made in Baptism, and His -child you are glad to be; then why should you -fear?" -</p> - -<p> -"It seems so strange that God is willing to -forgive me so often," Lucy would reply, "I -can hardly believe it." -</p> - -<p> -"It is, indeed, most wonderful; but for -Christ's sake His poor erring followers are -received, if they truly repent," would Rosa -answer. -</p> - -<p> -"I wish I could be perfect in a minute," said -Lucy, one day; "I get tired of trying." -</p> - -<p> -"When Christ has done so much for us that -wo may share His happy home in heaven, we -ought to be willing to stay here as long as He -pleases, and strive to follow His example. If -we prayed more earnestly for God to assist us, -we should find it easier to do right; for God -gives His Holy Spirit freely to them that ask -Him. If you can constantly remember that -God is with you, you will soon learn to turn -to Him when you are tempted," answered Rosa. -</p> - -<p> -Lucy thought that Rosa had no trouble to -do right always; but it was a mistake. Many -times hasty words came to Rosa's lips, and -unkind thoughts were offered to her mind; -but they wore followed so quickly by the effort -to subdue them, and the prayer for aid, that -they never were made known to those around her. -</p> - -<p> -Cold winter weather had come: it seemed to -make Harty only the more full of life and -spirits. When he came in from the keen air, -there was always a bustle in the circle round -the fire. Sometimes he would lay his cold -hands suddenly on Lucy's neck, and shout with -laughter as she shivered and drew away; -sometimes Rosa's cheeks got rubbed with a -snow-ball until they were redder than usual; -and almost always the noisy fellow was -reproved by Mrs. Maxwell for bringing in so -much snow or mud on his boots. -</p> - -<p> -Yet Rosa was learning to love her rough -brother very dearly, and she even fancied she -could see some improvement in him. After a long -talk with his sister, he would be more gentle -and quiet for a few days; but soon some trifle -would throw him into a passion, and all his -goodness departed. He was so accustomed to -speaking rudely to Lucy, that he never thought -of it afterwards; yet he was mortified when in -his fits of passion he had been unkind to Rosa. -</p> - -<p> -She never seemed to retain any remembrance -of his fault, but was ready to meet him -pleasantly again as soon as his bad humour had -passed away. -</p> - -<p> -He could not help admiring her noble spirit; -and every day he felt more and more sure that -there was some strength in the principles that -could keep a high-spirited girl like Rosa -uniformly gentle. -</p> - -<p> -By degrees Harty took less pleasure in teasing -Lucy, and more happiness in her society. She -had followed Rosa's hints, and tried not to be -vexed and hurt by trifles, and really was -becoming more interesting as she grew more -cheerful and talkative. -</p> - -<p> -Dr. Vale was still obliged to be very much -away from home, but the time that he could -spend with his family he greatly enjoyed; and -he often rejoiced that Rosa had been brought -home to throw around her such an atmosphere -of sunshine. -</p> - -<p> -Even Mrs. Maxwell had relaxed a little from -her stiffness: she occasionally allowed Rosa to -put Harty's room in order at first, and finally -she gave up that charge entirely to her. This -arrangement prevented much disturbance, for -Rosa handled carefully the veriest trash, which -she knew had value in Harty's eyes; and there -were no more broken cobwebs to put him out of temper. -</p> - -<p> -Often, when Mrs. Maxwell was weary, she -found a comfortable chair placed for her by the -fire; when her eyes were painful at night, -unasked, Rosa would read the daily paper -aloud. Such trifling attentions were very -grateful to the faithful housekeeper, and it -soon became a favourite joke with Harty to -call Rosa "Mrs. Maxwell's pet." -</p> - -<p> -As regularly as Saturday came, little Judy -appeared, leading Larry by the hand, for he -was now nearly two years old, and a fine -healthy boy. -</p> - -<p> -Lucy often wished that she could stay in the -room with Rosa and Judy, but the latter could -never attend to her sewing while her little -brother was in her presence. She was -constantly stopping to bid him say, "Thank ye" -to the lady, or shame him for running about as -if he were as much at home as the ladies. -</p> - -<p> -Lucy found it very easy to amuse Larry, and -before long she grew fond of him, and looked -forward with pleasure to his Saturday visit. -</p> - -<p> -With Harty's consent, and Mrs. Maxwell's -valuable assistance, some of his old clothes -were "cut down" for Larry, and he was -warmly dressed in a good great-coat and cap, -that delighted him exceedingly, though Judy -could not help laughing when she first saw him -in them. -</p> - -<p> -Judy learned much more than the use of the -needle from Rosa. As she sat sewing, Rosa -taught her many sweet hymns and passages -from Scripture, and led her to look to her kind -Heavenly Father as a friend who would "never -leave nor forsake her." -</p> - -<p> -The short winter days and the long winter -evenings soon passed away. One bright spring -morning Lucy was looking at the hyacinths -that were blooming beside the cottage wall, -when she heard a footstep, and, turning round, -she saw a stranger standing beside her. Once -she would have started away like a frightened -bird; but now she did not think of herself, but -waited politely until the stranger should -announce his errand. -</p> - -<p> -"The flowers are peeping forth again; I see -you love them," he said, cheerfully; "and -what a place this is for birds; I never heard -such a twittering. Are there any robins in the -old nest at the bottom of the garden?" -</p> - -<p> -"Oh yes, they have come," answered Lucy, -wondering who could know so well about the -robin's nest. -</p> - -<p> -"We ought to be friends, Lucy," continued -the stranger's pleasant voice, "for I could hush -you when you were a baby, when nobody else -could make you stop crying. You were a fat -little thing then, and you are not so very much -heavier now." And he jumped the little girl -high in the air. -</p> - -<p> -Lucy by this time had made up her mind, -that whoever the stranger might be, she liked -him. -</p> - -<p> -"Can it be uncle Gillette?" she had once -thought to herself; but she immediately decided -that it was not he, as she had always imagined -him very stern, with large black eyes, and the -stranger's face was mild and cheerful, and his -eyes were of a soft hazel. -</p> - -<p> -"I have more little friends in the house," -said the gentleman, and with Lucy's hand in -his, he entered the door. Rosa was half-way -down stairs; she caught one glimpse of the -stranger, and then gave a flying leap, which -nearly brought her to his side. -</p> - -<p> -"Oh! uncle Gillette, I am so glad to see -you," she said, as he bent to kiss her, -apparently as delighted as herself. -</p> - -<p> -Harty came out to see what was the cause of -all this commotion, and was greeted with a -cordial shake of the hand, and the address, "I -hope Harty has not forgotten his old playfellow, -uncle Gillette." -</p> - -<p> -The children thought their father welcomed -their uncle somewhat coldly; but they changed -their minds when they found that he had been -expecting him for several days, and had -accompanied him from the station to the gate. -</p> - -<p> -Lucy had supposed that she should be very -much afraid of Mr. Gillette, as she knew that -he was very learned and good; but she found -him as mild and simple as a little child, and -she was most happy to take the low stool he -placed for her at his side, and look into his -pleasant face, while she listened to his -conversation. -</p> - -<p> -She was heartily sorry when she heard him -say that he was to leave on Monday morning, -for as it was Saturday, they would have but a -short visit from him. -</p> - -<p> -There was no settled clergyman at Chatford -at this time, the rector being absent for the -benefit of his health. On this account a long -time had passed since the children of the parish -had been catechised in the church. There was -therefore no small bustle among the little -people when it was announced on the Sunday -morning after Mr. Gillette's arrival, that the -children would be called upon to recite the -Catechism that afternoon, immediately after -the service. -</p> - -<p> -There was much buzzing and studying at -noon; and many a boy was astonished that he -had forgotten what was once so familiar to him, -in the long interval which had passed since the -last catechising. -</p> - -<p> -Even Lucy was glad to study over what she -called the "long answers," although she never -failed to repeat them with her brother and -sister every Sunday evening. She did not -dare to lay her Prayer Book aside until Rosa -had patiently heard her say the whole -Catechism, and pronounced it perfectly learned. -</p> - -<p> -Many young hearts that had palpitated with -fear at the idea of reciting to a stranger, were -reassured when the Rev. Mr. Gillette arose -after the Evening Service, and said, "The -children may now come up to the chancel." -</p> - -<p> -Without a thought that any one was observing -her, Lucy stepped out and joined the -throng of boys and girls that were moving up -the aisle. Julia Staples was tittering in the -pew behind, and Judy M'Grath was walking at -her side; but she did not see either of them; -she felt that she was in God's holy temple, and -about to perform a solemn duty, and she -inwardly prayed that she might be able to -understand and improve by Mr. Gillette's -explanations. -</p> - -<p> -The children were allowed to recite together, -and their voices joined in a full chorus, as -they answered correctly all the questions of the -Catechism. Glances of triumph and congratulation -passed from eye to eye as they finished, -or not once had they faltered, even in the -most difficult parts. -</p> - -<p> -"What is the Catechism?" asked Mr. Gillette. -</p> - -<p> -"It is a preparation for Confirmation," -answered one of the boys. -</p> - -<p> -"You have all recited the Catechism perfectly; -are you then prepared to be confirmed?" -said Mr. Gillette. -</p> - -<p> -There was no answer for a moment, and all -looked confused; at length there was a faint "No." -</p> - -<p> -"I fear not," continued Mr. Gillette: "how, -then, must you say this Catechism before you -are ready to be confirmed?" -</p> - -<p> -"We must speak it from the heart," said -Judy M'Grath. -</p> - -<p> -Some of the boys smiled at her Irish accent, -but one glance from Mr. Gillette sobered them. -</p> - -<p> -"Right! When do you take upon yourselves -the promises made for you by your -sponsors in Baptism?" he asked. -</p> - -<p> -"At Confirmation," several replied. -</p> - -<p> -"True," said Mr. Gillette, "at Confirmation -you take these promises publicly upon -yourselves. I see many before me," said he, -looking tenderly about him, "who are too -young for Confirmation, but hardly a child -who is not old enough to make those solemn -promises to God in private, and strive earnestly -to keep them. Do not wait, my dear children, -until you are old enough to be confirmed, -before you promise to love and obey the -Saviour who has redeemed you. Your sponsors -laid you as infants on His bosom; turn -not from Him with your first feeble footsteps. -You were made members of Christ at Baptism; -ask God this day to help you to live as the -lambs of His flock. If you commence now to -strive to keep your baptismal promises, -Confirmation will indeed be, as it ought, a -strengthening of you in all that is good, an -assistance in leading that holy life which -becomes the children of God, the members of -Christ, and the inheritors of the kingdom of -heaven. -</p> - -<p> -"Let me ask you once more, Do you not -believe that you are bound to believe and do as -your sponsors promised for you? Let me hear -that answer again, and may God give you -strength to speak it from the heart." -</p> - -<p> -"Yes, verily, and by God's help so I will; -and I heartily thank our Heavenly Father that -He has called me to this state of salvation, -through Jesus Christ our Lord," was heard -from the throng around the chancel. -</p> - -<p> -Even those who stood nearest to Lucy could -hardly hear her voice; no human friend saw -her uplifted eye; but God, who seeth all hearts, -accepted the vow she made in His holy temple, -and she felt more fully than she had ever done -before, that she was indeed the child of God. -</p> - -<p> -Lucy was not the only child who had listened -earnestly to Mr. Gillette. It was the last time -that he ever addressed those children; but -there will be those at the resurrection who will -thank him for the words he spoke that day: -good resolutions were then roused in young -hearts, which strengthened until they became -strong principles, which supported through life, -sustained in death, and were perfected in -heaven. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap13"></a></p> - -<h3> -CHAPTER XIII. -<br /><br /> -SICKNESS. -</h3> - -<p> -All was changed at Dr. Vale's cottage on -Monday noon: Mrs. Maxwell, Harty, and Lucy -once more sat down to dinner by themselves. -The doctor was with a distant patient, and -Rosa had gone with Mr. Gillette, to pass a few -days in the city. -</p> - -<p> -Although Mr. Gillette had been with them so -short a time, both Harty and Lucy were sorry -to part with him; and they did not wonder at -Rosa's strong attachment to their uncle. -</p> - -<p> -Lucy felt very sad when it was first proposed -that Rosa should leave home, although it was -only for a few days; but she knew this was a -selfish feeling, and struggled to overcome it. -Early on Monday morning the packing of -Rosa's trunk commenced. Lucy ran about to -wait on her sister, and helped her in her -preparations as cheerfully as if she herself were of -the party; she even insisted upon lending her -certain belts and ribbons which were the -treasures of her wardrobe. -</p> - -<p> -Harty was not up when the carriage came to -the door; he had been called once, but had -fallen asleep again. He thrust his tumbled -head from the window, and bade his sister a -hearty farewell as she drove from the door. -</p> - -<p> -This little circumstance seemed to have put -him in a bad humour for the day. He pushed -away his plate at breakfast, declaring he would -not eat a mouthful of such trash; although -everything was very nice, and there were hot -cakes, of which he was usually very fond. -Notwithstanding Harty's ill-humours, he was a -favourite with old Betsy, and she was always -careful to send him up a good breakfast, even -when he had been lazy. -</p> - -<p> -At dinner, his temper did not seem to have -improved. "How you do eat," he said to -Lucy: "it takes away my appetite to see you -stuff so. I will speak to father about it." -</p> - -<p> -Poor Lucy looked up in surprise, for she was -only quietly taking a moderate meal. Once -she would have answered pettishly or begun to -cry, but Rosa had taught her that a cheerful as -well as a soft answer often turneth away wrath, -and she smilingly replied, "Why, Harty, I -shall not be a stout, rosy girl soon, unless I -make good dinners. Do try some of this -horse-radish, it will make you relish your dinner as -well as I do." -</p> - -<p> -"Pshaw!" exclaimed Harty, impatiently, -"you need not try so hard to be like Rosa: you -can never hit it; you are as unlike as an acorn -to an apple." -</p> - -<p> -Lucy blushed, and was glad that Mrs. Maxwell -spoke to her just then, for she was hurt -by her brother's rudeness, and tempted to make -a hasty reply. -</p> - -<p> -Mrs. Maxwell wanted a certain apron for a -pattern, and Lucy ran for it as soon as dinner -was over, little thinking that even Mrs. Maxwell -had learned something from Rosa, and had -spoken to her at that moment to change the -conversation. -</p> - -<p> -Lucy really felt sorry to see Harty come into -the dining-room after tea, as if he intended to -spend the evening there, for the frown was on -his brow. She was about to ask him why he -did not go to see John Staples, when she -remembered that Rosa had said that John was a -bad companion, and that sisters ought to do -everything to make their home pleasant, even -when their brothers were cross and disagreeable; -for boys were often led into temptation when -out of the house, from which they were safe -when at home. -</p> - -<p> -With these thoughts in her mind Lucy laid -aside a mark which she was working for Rosa, -and which she was anxious to finish before her -return, and went for the chequer-board. -</p> - -<p> -"Don't you want to beat me?" she asked -gently of Harty. -</p> - -<p> -"It is so easy to do that, I don't care for it," -was his reply. -</p> - -<p> -The little girl was not discouraged; she took -out her scrap-book and pictures, and the bottle -of gum-arabic, and placed them on the table. -She knew Harty would be sure to take an -interest in some new engravings which one of the -school-girls had that day given her. -</p> - -<p> -A spirited engraving of a wild horse caught -his eye, and he soon was engaged in looking -over the addition to the old stock, and in -advising Lucy where to paste them. One of the -engravings he claimed as his own. Lucy knew -perfectly that he was mistaken, but she gave it -to him without a word; and when he laughed -at her awkward way of using the brush, she -joined in the laugh, holding up her sticky fingers -in a comical way. -</p> - -<p> -Presently Harty put his head on the table, -and fell fast asleep. -</p> - -<p> -"Harty must be unwell," said Mrs. Maxwell, -as she roused him from his heavy sleep, and -told him he had better go up to bed. -</p> - -<p> -Grumbling at being waked, he disappeared, -without saying Good night to anybody. -</p> - -<p> -Rosa's room looked lonely and deserted to -Lucy as she passed it that night; and she -wondered, as she put the lamp down on her -own little table, where her sister was, and -what she was doing. -</p> - -<p> -That pretty room was a different place to -Lucy from what it once was. She did not think -of looking for robbers now; she had given -that up long ago; and when she looked out of -the pleasant window, the stars seemed like -spirits, that told her of the power of the great -God, who was her friend. She had ceased to -hear mysterious noises in the orchard; the -stillness of the night was only disturbed by the -twittering of some restless bird, or the waving -of the tender leaves in the soft wind; but Lucy -felt no fear as she looked out upon the quiet -scene. Once she had been afraid of ghosts, -and often feared at night to see some white -figure rise before her; but since she had learned -to love the ever-present, invisible God, she felt -safe from all harm, whether from spirits or evil -men. Lucy liked to be alone now, that she -might think about the gentle Saviour who was -ever with her. To that Saviour she spoke in -sincere prayer that night. Her brother was -not forgotten: she prayed that God might -watch over him and make him truly good, and -as she did so there was not a harsh feeling in -her heart towards him, notwithstanding his -unkindness during the day. -</p> - -<p> -In the middle of the night Lucy woke suddenly: -she did not long doubt as to what had -roused her, for the rain was falling in torrents, -and soon there was a heavy clap of thunder, at -almost the same moment that the room was lit -by the glare of lightning. Lucy lay very still: -she could not help feeling that there was some -danger, but she was calm and peaceful. "The -lightning is in God's hand, my Father's hand," -she thought. "He will take care of me;" and -she was soon almost asleep again. A loud -groan made her start up in bed and listen. It -was repeated, and seemed to come from Harty's -room. Without a thought but of alarm for her -brother, she slipped on her shoes, and throwing -her little wrapper about her, she ran to him. -</p> - -<p> -"What is the matter, Harty?" film asked, -as she stood by his side. -</p> - -<p> -"Go away! they'll not get me; I know -where to hide," he muttered. -</p> - -<p> -"Wake up, Harty," said Lucy, "there's -nobody trying to catch you." -</p> - -<p> -The lightning lit the room, and she saw that -her brother's eyes were wide open, and that his -cheeks were flushed. She took his hand; it was -burning hot: he snatched it from her, saying, -"Let me go, John, you don't play fair." -</p> - -<p> -"Don't you know me, brother?" said Lucy, -leaning over him. -</p> - -<p> -"Oh yes, Thomas; tell Betsy to bake me -some cakes," was his reply. -</p> - -<p> -Poor Lucy! what should she do? She did -not like to leave her brother to call Mrs. Maxwell; -yet something, she knew, ought to be -done for him immediately. At length she -thought to knock on the wall, and wake -Mrs. Maxwell, as her room was next to Harty's. -</p> - -<p> -"What, afraid again?" said Mrs. Maxwell, -as she saw Lucy standing by her brother's -bed. -</p> - -<p> -A groan from Harty, and a few muttered -words, immediately drew her attention to him. -</p> - -<p> -"I told you he was ill last night; why, how -hot he is! Harty, what ails you?" said -Mrs. Maxwell in a breath. -</p> - -<p> -Harty could not tell what ailed him, for he -was delirious with fever. -</p> - -<p> -"What shall we do?" said Mrs. Maxwell, -desperately: "your father won't be home till -near morning, I know, and I am afraid to give -any medicine, for he always scolds about my -'dosing the children.'" -</p> - -<p> -"But Harty ought to have something done -for him, I am sure," said Lucy. -</p> - -<p> -"Well, we'll do what we can to put him in a -perspiration," said Mrs. Maxwell. "I'll go to -the kitchen and make him some hot drink, and -get hot water for his feet, and may be that'll -be the best thing till the doctor comes home." So -saying, she disappeared with the light she -had brought in her hand. -</p> - -<p> -Lucy put on her brother's great coat, that -lay on a chair; for the storm had cooled the -air, and she was quite chilly. Thus equipped, -she began to act the nurse as well as she could. -Her first step was to light a lamp. Harty had -a nice lucifer-box on his shelf: she felt -carefully for it, and managed to find it without -knocking down any of his treasures. -</p> - -<p> -Not a thought of fear crossed her mind, -although Mrs. Maxwell had gone to the kitchen -in the basement, and there was no one near to -aid her, if her brother should attempt in his -delirium to injure her. Love to God made her -trust in His protection; love to her brother -made her forgetful of danger to herself while -striving to be useful to him. She bathed his -burning forehead, and moistened his parched -lips, and often spoke to him tenderly, hoping -he might answer her naturally. Sometimes, -for a moment, she fancied he knew her, but as -she bent to catch his words, some unmeaning -sentence would convince her she was mistaken. -How welcome was the sound of her father's -footstep! Unconscious of any evil, Dr. Vale -entered the house, and was hurried to Harty's -bedside. Lucy watched his face as he felt her -brother's pulse and noticed his other symptoms, -and her heart grew sadder yet as she read his -deep anxiety. -</p> - -<p> -Mrs. Maxwell told him how fretful and -indifferent to food Harty had appeared during -the day, and of his unusual nap in the evening; -and as she did so, Lucy felt grateful that she -had borne pleasantly with her brother's -ill-humour, which had, no doubt, been caused in -part by disease. How painful her feelings -would have been if she had treated him with -unkindness, though with ever so great -provocation! Children can never know how soon the -illness or death of their friends may make -them bitterly lament the slightest harshness -towards them. -</p> - -<p> -When Dr. Vale had given Harty such medicines -as he thought most sure to give him relief, -he for the first time noticed Lucy, who had -kept by the bedside. Even in his sadness, he -almost smiled at the funny little figure wrapped -in the thick coat, with only the face visible, -looking out from the nightcap. -</p> - -<p> -"Go to bed, child; you can do no good here, -and it will make you ill to lose your sleep," he -said to her, gently. -</p> - -<p> -"But, father," she pleaded, "I shall not -sleep if I do go to bed; I can't bear to leave -poor Harty." -</p> - -<p> -"Mrs. Maxwell and I can do all that is -needed for him to-night, my dear," said he, -kissing her sorrowful face. "To-morrow we -shall want you to run about and wait on us. -Go, take some rest, like a good child, that you -may be able to be useful in the morning." -</p> - -<p> -With this motive to console her, Lucy went -to her room. When there, all the fearful -reality of Harty's illness came fully upon her. -He might be taken from her, she thought, and -at the very idea her tears flowed fast, and her -heart throbbed with distress. Lucy did not -long forget the heavenly Friend to whom she -had learned to go in all her trials. Now she -prayed earnestly to Him to spare her brother's -life, or grant him his reason, that he might be -able to realize his awful situation if he indeed -must die. After this prayer she felt more -composed, although very, very sad. At last -she fell asleep, and did not wake until the sun -was several hours high. -</p> - -<p> -Her first thought in waking was of her -brother. She stole gently to his door. -Mrs. Maxwell was sitting beside him: she motioned -to Lucy to go away, and made a sign that -Harty was sleeping. -</p> - -<p> -The sorrow and anxiety of that day would -have been harder for Lucy to bear, if she had -not been so busy. Mrs. Maxwell did not leave -the sick-room, and Dr. Vale was there nearly -all the time; but unwilling as he was to leave -his son, he was obliged to visit other patients -several times during the day. -</p> - -<p> -Lucy was kept almost constantly in motion. -She brought for Mrs. Maxwell what was -needed from the surgery or the kitchen, and -carried messages in all directions. She -carefully placed a little chair by the door, and -there she sat silently, to be ready whenever -she might be wanted. -</p> - -<p> -Lucy did not ask her father any questions, -but she hoped from hour to hour to hear him -say that her brother was better; but no such -cheering words fell from his lips. -</p> - -<p> -Towards evening he hastily wrote a letter, -and said to Lucy, as he handed it to her to -send to the post, "I have written to Rosa to -come home immediately. Tell Patty to have -a room ready for Mr. Gillette; he will return with her." -</p> - -<p> -These words were full of dreadful meaning -to Lucy. Harty must be very ill, she knew, -or Rosa would not have been sent for. -Throwing aside her usual quiet manner, she -clasped her father round the neck and sobbed -upon his bosom. "Dear, dear father," she -whispered, "do you think Harty will die?" -</p> - -<p> -"God may spare him," said Dr. Vale, his -strong frame shaking with emotion, and the -tears in his eyes. -</p> - -<p> -Lucy had never seen her father so much -moved before, and she felt sure that he had -very little hope that her brother would be -well again. -</p> - -<p> -She ceased sobbing, and a strange calmness -came over her. Every impatient or unkind -word that she had ever spoken to Harty came -back to her; and oh how solemnly she -resolved, if he should recover, to be a better -sister to him than she had ever been before! -She tried to remember something that Harty -had said which could make her feel sure that -he would be happy in heaven, if he should -die. She thought of the Sunday evening -when he had bid her "Good night" so kindly, -and joined in saying the Catechism; of the -first Sunday that he had made a prayer on -entering church; and of the many times that -he had listened with interest while Rosa talked -of the Saviour. But these recollections did -not set her mind at rest. She knew that God -had said, "My son, give me thine heart;" and -she felt sadly sure that Harty had never, in -sincerity, given his heart to God. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap14"></a></p> - -<h3> -CHAPTER XIV. -<br /><br /> -CONCLUSION. -</h3> - -<p> -Rosa reached home on Wednesday morning. -Her bright smile had vanished, and her sweet -eyes looked sad and tearful; yet her step was -firm and her manner calm. Lucy felt sure -when she met her sister, that she had found -support in this great trouble from that God -who bids us "cast all our care on Him, for He -careth for us." -</p> - -<p> -When Rosa bent over Harty, and called him -by name, he looked strangely at her, and, -muttering, turned away. At first this was -almost too much for her to bear; but by -degrees she became accustomed to it, and -commanded herself sufficiently to relieve -Mrs. Maxwell from her post as nurse. Poor -Mrs. Maxwell was quite worn out, and was very -glad to take a little rest. Lucy had darkened -her room, that she might sleep the better; and -as soon as the tired woman had lain down, she -stationed herself by the door to keep the hall -as quiet as possible. Lucy found that she had -been unjust to Mrs. Maxwell. She had always -thought her a stern woman with a cold heart; -but when she saw how tenderly she watched -by Harty's bedside, she felt that she should -always love her for it, and never call her cross -again, when she found fault about trifles. -</p> - -<p> -Mrs. Maxwell herself was surprised to find -how deeply she had become attached to -Dr. Vale's children. She had met with much -misfortune and unkindness in the world; and -when she came to live in Dr. Vale's family, -she resolved to do her duty faithfully, and -did not expect to love those around her or -be loved by them. Although her severe -manner had softened but little, by degrees she -had become so fond of the children that she -was only happy when doing something for -them; and now her anxiety for poor sick Harty -knew no bounds. -</p> - -<p> -Several sad days of care and nursing passed -by. Dr. Vale, Mrs. Maxwell, and Rosa, were -with Harty by turns, day and night; and Lucy -patiently waited on all until evening came, -when she slept soundly from pure weariness. -</p> - -<p> -Mr. Gillette was a comfort to all: he seemed -truly a messenger from his Master in heaven, -for there were ever sweet words of consolation -on his lips. He daily offered prayers in -the room of the sick boy; and all who knelt -with him rose up strengthened by trust in the -God who "doeth all things well." -</p> - -<p> -One day, when Harty had been ill a week, -Rosa was sitting by him in silence, when, in a -low, weak voice, he called her by name. -</p> - -<p> -"My dear brother," she answered, very -calmly, although she was much startled. -</p> - -<p> -He took the hand she placed on his, and -said, in a searching manner, "Am I very ill?" -</p> - -<p> -"We hope you may get well, but you are -in God's hands," was Rosa's reply. -</p> - -<p> -To be in God's hands was not an idea of -peace to poor Harty. He could not turn with -loving trust in sickness to the God whom he -had neglected in health. A pang darted through -his heart, a pang of fear and remorse, more -deep and painful than he had ever felt. He -was to die with all the sins of his youth upon -him! In his weak state this awful thought -was too much for him, and his mind again -wandered in delirium. -</p> - -<p> -Rosa continued by his bedside in silent -prayer. She did not again hear her name -called, as she hoped, and she was forced to -resign her place to Mrs. Maxwell, without -having another sign of consciousness from her -brother. -</p> - -<p> -When it was again Rosa's turn to act as -nurse, she found that there had been a decided -change in Harty. He slept more calmly, and -breathed more naturally. Dr. Vale came in -when she had been sitting by the bed a -few moments: a rapid examination served -to show him that there was, indeed, cause -for hope. -</p> - -<p> -The joyful news spread through the household, -and many thanksgivings went up to the -God who dispenses sickness and health. -Rejoiced as all were at the idea of seeing Harty -once more in health, there was in every heart -a deeper cause of gratitude: they might now -hope that he would not be called to meet -his Father in heaven while yet a disobedient, -wandering child. Time might yet be given -him to learn, to know, and love that Father, -and walk in His holy ways. -</p> - -<p> -When Harty was again conscious of what -was going on around him, his father was -with him. "Don't trouble yourself to think -now, my dear boy," said Dr. Vale, soothingly. -"I hope you will soon be much better; and -I pray God that He will enable you to lead -a new life. Lie still now, and you will soon -fall asleep again, to wake much refreshed, I -hope." -</p> - -<p> -Harty's recovery was slow and tedious. He -was very weak, and little inclined to talk. He -seemed most contented when Rosa was singing -to him some pretty hymn, and Lucy was sitting -by him on the bed smoothing his hair, or -fanning him gently. -</p> - -<p> -His large eyes looked sunken and thoughtful, -and his manner, once boisterous, was mild and -gentle. -</p> - -<p> -"Don't move for me again this morning, dear -Lucy," he said one day; "your little feet must -be very tired with running up and down stairs. -When I get well I shall have to wait on you all -the rest of my life to repay you for this -kindness." -</p> - -<p> -This was so unlike the old, exacting Harty, -that it quite overcame little Lucy, and the tears -were in her eyes as she answered, "I love to -do anything for you, my dear brother. I want -nothing from you but to get well as soon as you -can, and look bright, and merry, and tease me -as you used to do." -</p> - -<p> -A sad smile crossed Harty's face, as he said, -"I don't mean to do as I used to do in anything, -Lucy. You will forget how unkind I was -to you, won't you, pet? I don't think I shall -be so any more." -</p> - -<p> -Lucy's tears fell fast. Don't talk so, Harty," -she said; "You were never unkind to me. I -was a foolish little thing, and let everything -worry me. Come, we won't talk any more; you -look tired. Here is Rosa, she will sing,— -</p> - -<p class="poem"> - 'Softly now the light of day,'—<br /> -</p> - -<p class="noindent"> -while you take a nice little nap." -</p> - -<p> -By degrees the colour came again to Harty's -cheeks, and his limbs renewed their strength. -</p> - -<p> -One calm Sunday evening, towards the end -of June, he was sitting between his sisters, -looking out at the evening sky. -</p> - -<p> -"Let us have the Catechism once more," -said Lucy; "it will seem like old times." -</p> - -<p> -Rosa and Lucy began as usual together. -Harty's voice was with them; and there was a -deep solemnity in his manner as he pronounced -the words, "Yes, verily, and by God's help so -I will; and I heartily thank our Heavenly -Father that He has called me to this state of -salvation, through Jesus Christ our Lord; and -I pray unto God to give me His grace that I -may continue in the same unto my life's end." -</p> - -<p> -His sisters felt that he spoke from his heart; -and there was that joy in their hearts which the -angels know over "one sinner that repenteth." -</p> - -<p> -As the summer passed away, the cottage -looked cheerful once more, as of old. The -children again rambled in the woods or strolled -in the orchard, and whenever their voices were -heard the tones were pleasant and kindly. -</p> - -<p> -True, they all had faults of character still to -overcome, and were sometimes tempted to go -astray; but there was in each heart an earnest -wish to do right, and a spirit of love and -forgiveness that kept them from all variance. -</p> - -<p> -Mrs. Maxwell was still formal and particular; -but she now had little cause for complaint, for -Harty was so grateful for her watchful care -during his illness, that he made many efforts to -overcome his careless habits, and in a great -measure succeeded. -</p> - -<p> -"The dear boy forgot for once," she would -sometimes say, as she hung his cap on the -accustomed peg, or overlooked some act of -heedlessness; for she felt that he was trying to -please her, and she was the more ready to -forgive him. -</p> - -<p> -In the trying scenes by Harty's bedside -Dr. Vale had been brought near in heart to his -children. Now there was no subject on which -he could not talk freely to them. He spoke to -them of their mother, and told them anecdotes -of her blameless life that were treasured up in -their young hearts for loving imitation. -</p> - -<p> -The blessed Saviour and the heaven He purchased -for His faithful ones were often subjects -for conversation in that happy family circle, -and the doctor felt, as he looked into the faces -of his children, that God had blessed their -mother's prayers. -</p> - -<p> -Uncle Gillette's letters were always welcomed -with joy, and never read without cheering the -young Christians in the path of duty. -</p> - -<p> -Lucy had now nothing to fear: the sorrows -of her timid childhood were over. Loving and -cheerful, she made all happy around her. She -had found a comfort for all sorrow, a Friend -ever-present, a support for life and death, in -Him who saith to the children of His love, -"Fear not, little flock; for it is your Father's -good pleasure to give you the kingdom." -</p> - -<p><br /><br /></p> - -<p class="t4"> -LONDON: R. K. BURT, PRINTER, HOLBORN HILL. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<div style='display:block; margin-top:4em'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK TIMID LUCY ***</div> -<div style='text-align:left'> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Updated editions will replace the previous one—the old editions will -be renamed. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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