Cornelia was the joy and pride of her parents, for she was a slender,
graceful little creature, darting about like a young fawn, and her
cheeks were as fresh and blooming as the young rose when it first opens
to receive the dew. Added to this, she was blessed with a temper as
sweet and serene as a spring morning when it dawns upon the blooming
valleys, announcing a fair and delightful day.
Cornelia had never in her life known what it is to experience trouble
and anxiety, for her youth had been all brightness and sunshine. But
such freedom from all trials does not generally continue for a long time
uninterrupted. And so it was with Cornelia. She was one day very much
delighted at being shown a little brother with which her mother had
presented her, but her joy was soon clouded by the severe illness of
that mother. She lay many long days without noticing or appearing to
know her little Cornelia, for her fever was strong, and her senses were
continually wandering.
Cornelia was almost heart-broken at this, and they could scarcely
persuade her to leave the bedside of her dear mother, for a single
moment. She would entreat and implore until she won their consent that
she should remain in the sick room; and then all night long would the
affectionate little girl watch by her mother's bed, and attentively
study her every want, wetting her parched lips and moving around her
with the lightest and most anxious footsteps.
On the seventh day of her sickness the fever approached its crisis and
there was deep silence in the little chamber, and stifled weeping, for
every one thought that death was near.
But with the night came long absent slumber, and revived the almost
dying mother, and seemed to give her back to life. What a season for
Cornelia! Through the whole night she sat by the bed listening to her
now soft and regular breathing, while hope and fear were struggling
together in her bosom. When daylight appeared the mother opened her
eyes, and turning them upon the anxious Cornelia, knew her. "I am
better, my child," said she in a clear, but feeble voice, "I am better,
and shall get well!" They then gave her drink and nourishment, and she
went to sleep again.
What joy was this for the affectionate little girl! Her heart was too
full for utterance, and she stole softly out of the chamber, and skipped
out into the field, and ascended a hill near by, just as the sun was
dawning. Here she stood her hands clasped together, and her bosom
swelling with many contending emotions of pain and hope. Presently the
sun arose and streamed over her face, and Cornelia thought of the new
life of her mother after her reviving sleep, and the anguish of her own
feelings. But she could not long shut up the flood of feeling within her
own heart, and she knelt down upon blooming flowers with which the hill
was covered, and bowing her face to the fragrant sod, her tears were
mingled with the dew of heaven.
After a few minutes silence, she lifted up her head, and rising from the
ground, returned to her home, and the chamber of her mother. Never
before had there been so sweet and calm a loveliness on the face of
Cornelia. It was a reflection of the peace and tranquility of her soul,
for she had held communion with her God!