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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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