When Rosa bent1 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 sufficiently2 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 softened3 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 consolation4 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 pang5 darted6 through his heart, a pang of fear and remorse7, 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 delirium8.
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 decided9 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 joyful10 news spread through the household, and many thanksgivings went up to the God who dispenses11 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 gratitude12: 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, soothingly13. "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 contented14 when Rosa was singing to him some pretty hymn15, 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 boisterous16, 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, exacting17 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 heartily18 thank our Heavenly Father that He has called me to this state of salvation19, 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 spoke20 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 rambled21 in the woods or strolled in the orchard22, and whenever their voices were heard the tones were pleasant and kindly23.
True, they all had faults of character still to overcome, and were sometimes tempted24 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 variance25.
Mrs. Maxwell was still formal and particular; but she now had little cause for complaint, for Harty was so grateful for her watchful26 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 peg27, 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 anecdotes28 of her blameless life that were treasured up in their young hearts for loving imitation.
The blessed Saviour29 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 Christians30 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."
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1
bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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sufficiently
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| adv.足够地，充分地 | |
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softened
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| （使）变软( soften的过去式和过去分词 )； 缓解打击； 缓和； 安慰 | |
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consolation
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| n.安慰，慰问 | |
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pang
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| n.剧痛，悲痛，苦闷 | |
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darted
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| v.投掷，投射( dart的过去式和过去分词 )；向前冲，飞奔 | |
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7
remorse
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| n.痛恨，悔恨，自责 | |
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8
delirium
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| n. 神智昏迷,说胡话;极度兴奋 | |
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decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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10
joyful
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| adj.欢乐的，令人欢欣的 | |
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11
dispenses
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| v.分配，分与；分配( dispense的第三人称单数 )；施与；配（药） | |
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12
gratitude
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| adj.感激，感谢 | |
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13
soothingly
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| adv.抚慰地，安慰地；镇痛地 | |
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14
contented
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| adj.满意的，安心的，知足的 | |
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hymn
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| n.赞美诗，圣歌，颂歌 | |
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16
boisterous
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| adj.喧闹的，欢闹的 | |
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exacting
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| adj.苛求的，要求严格的 | |
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heartily
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| adv.衷心地，诚恳地，十分，很 | |
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19
salvation
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| n.（尤指基督）救世，超度，拯救，解困 | |
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20
spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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21
rambled
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| （无目的地）漫游( ramble的过去式和过去分词 )； （喻）漫谈； 扯淡； 长篇大论 | |
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22
orchard
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| n.果园，果园里的全部果树，(美俚)棒球场 | |
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23
kindly
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| adj.和蔼的，温和的，爽快的；adv.温和地，亲切地 | |
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24
tempted
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| v.怂恿（某人）干不正当的事；冒…的险（tempt的过去分词） | |
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25
variance
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| n.矛盾，不同 | |
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watchful
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| adj.注意的，警惕的 | |
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27
peg
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| n.木栓，木钉；vt.用木钉钉，用短桩固定 | |
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28
anecdotes
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| n.掌故，趣闻，轶事( anecdote的名词复数 ) | |
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29
saviour
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| n.拯救者，救星 | |
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30
Christians
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| n.基督教徒( Christian的名词复数 ) | |
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