STELLA PLEADS FOR GEORGE
SILENCE reigned in the room where Stella lay perfectly still, with
distended eyes and rigid limbs. The doctor and his assistant watched
by her side, and Miss Clarke sat in an easy-chair close by.
It was nearly midnight, and still the child showed no signs of
consciousness, when Anna came to the door and asked if Dr. Knight
would come and see his wife for a few minutes, a request with which
he immediately complied.
Mr. Gray was holding Stella's hand in his when he felt her fingers
twitch, the strained look died out of her eyes, her face relaxed,
and he saw she was regaining consciousness. A look brought Miss
Clarke to the bedside, and she bent anxiously over the child.
"Stella!" she whispered, "Stella, darling!"
With returning consciousness came memory, and in a few minutes Stella
was sobbing hysterically.
"Let her cry as much as she will," Mr. Gray whispered, as Miss Clarke
tried in vain to soothe her.
"Where is it? What was it?" gasped Stella.
"It was only that naughty boy George, who dressed up to frighten you,
my dear," Miss Clarke answered, understanding the questions. "He did
not mean to hurt you, or do you any harm."
Stella sobbed louder than before. The stories that had been told her
years ago, the fears and terrors she had suffered came back to her
mind, and it was not till Dr. Knight returned, and lifting her in his
arms, carried her into his wife's room, and placed her in bed by the
invalid's side, that the poor child could be quieted.
An hour later Stella was asleep with her head pillowed on her aunt's
breast, and Dr. Knight, coming in to see the meaning of the lull
after the storm, found that his wife, worn out with anxiety, was
sleeping too.
The next day, Sunday, was beautifully fine. When Stella awoke she
found her aunt already dressed, and was surprised to find it was so
late. Anna brought in her breakfast, and told her Miss Clarke had
gone to church with the children, excepting George, who was with his
mother in the next room.
Though Stella felt weak and dizzy she insisted upon getting up, so
Anna fetched her clothes, and assisted her in dressing, exclaiming
at her pale face—
"You do look poorly, Miss Stella! Why, what a silly little girl
you were to be frightened by Master George!"
Stella blushed, and hung her head; now, in the daylight, it did seem
silly, but, last night!—she shuddered, and Anna hastened to add
reassuringly—
"But there, he'll never do it again, I can promise you! Such a state
he's been in, poor boy; and I never saw the doctor so angry with one
of his children before. It'll be long before he'll forgive the boy!"
Anna brushed out Stella's beautiful hair, and watched the little
troubled face reflected in the glass in front of her. She saw the
sensitive lips quiver, and the dark eyes fill with tears.
"I am sorry uncle is so angry with George," Stella said gently.
"I am sure he did not mean to frighten me—at least so much."
"You're a kind-hearted little soul," Anna answered, as she bent down
and kissed the child's pale face. "Now run into the next room to your
aunt; she wants you, I daresay, and will be glad to see you're well
enough to be up."
Stella obeyed, and found George seated by his mother's side. He was
in the midst of reading the fifty-first psalm aloud—
"Wash me throughly from mine iniquity, and cleanse me from my sin."
"For I acknowledge my transgressions, and my sin is ever before me."
At this point he looked up, and saw his cousin standing hesitatingly
on the threshold of the room. His face, which was already swollen and
red with weeping, grew redder still. He had meant to ask her
forgiveness, but when he saw her pale cheeks and the tell-tale
dark rims of suffering around her eyes, words failed him.
"Oh, Stella!" he gasped, and then paused in confusion.
But she ran to him, and putting her arms around his neck, kissed him
affectionately.
"Oh, George!" she cried, "don't, don't be sorry any more. I was very,
very silly to mind!"
"No, no," blubbered the boy. "It was wicked and cowardly of me to
frighten you; but I never thought you would care so much. You will
forgive me, Stella, won't you?"
"Oh, yes, yes."
"I'll never do it again, and I'll always stick up for you. You're a
brick—a regular brick!"
Stella flushed with pleasure, and turned to kiss her aunt.
Mrs. Knight looked pale and tired, and Stella saw she had been
weeping too.
"I have made a great fuss, and given every one a lot of trouble,"
the little girl remarked sadly.
"Father will hardly speak to me, he's so angry," George said. "I wish
you would ask him to forgive me, Stella."
"I will."
She went downstairs to the surgery where her uncle was preparing to
go out. He caught her in his arms, and asked her how she felt.
"Oh, I'm quite well, thank you, uncle."
"Are you, little mouse? Why, you're as white as a snow-flake, and no
wonder. We must take better care of you, Stella."
"Oh, uncle, I was very silly; of course I ought to have known it was
only George. Won't you forgive him, please? He's ever so sorry, and
he'll never do it again."
"I should hope not!"
"You will forgive him, won't you?"
"If I find he is thoroughly repentant I will, certainly."
"Shall I tell him to come down and see you now before you go out?"
Stella asked coaxingly.
"I suppose he sent you to me," Dr. Knight said, laughing, "I know
his way. Yes, tell him I want a few words with him, my dear."
So peace reigned once more in the doctor's household, and from that
time Stella got on better with the twins. She learned to laugh when
they teased her, and not to be vexed and cross, so that they soon
found there was no fun in worrying her at all, and let her alone.
She grew to love her aunt more and more, taking all her childish
troubles to her like the other children, listening to her gentle
counsel, and receiving from her lips the teaching that she no longer
found difficult to understand.
Another knowledge was coming to Stella—the knowledge of the real
worth of the money that she had been early tutored to think of first
importance. She began to see that riches alone could not bring
happiness, and to understand that there is a greater blessing in life
than money and the power it brings. "The blessing of the Lord
it maketh rich, and He addeth no sorrow with it."
The little heiress was seeking that blessing, and unconsciously
fitting herself for the responsibilities wealth brings in its train,
choosing that good part which, as the Saviour said of her who meekly
sat at His feet, "shall not be taken away from her."
And so the winter months slipped peacefully away, and spring was come
with a wealth of golden daffodils in the meadows, and clumps of shy
primroses in the hedgerows. With the advent of the flowers and the
sunshine a change took place in the doctor's household. Mr. Gray
purchased a share of a practice in London, and the children learnt,
to their great astonishment, that their governess was shortly to be
married to their father's assistant.
"But what shall we do without Miss Clarke?" Nellie asked her mother
in bewilderment.
"Your father thinks of sending you all to school," Mrs. Knight
answered, smiling at the little girl's rueful face.
"To school! Not to boarding-school?" cried the children in chorus.
"No, no, certainly not. He never thought of such a thing, I'm sure."
"I shall not mind going to school every day if I come home to sleep,"
Nellie remarked. "Shall you, Dora?"
"No, I think it will be rather fun!"
"School is nice in some ways," Stella said; "you know I used to go to
a day-school in London. There were a lot of girls, and a few of them
used to be friendly with me, but most of them were too big to notice
me at all—except one, and she used to borrow all my money, and never
return it!"
"Oh, Stella!" Dora exclaimed in horror. "How dishonest of her!"
"It was very dishonest," Mrs. Knight said gravely; "I don't like the
idea of one child borrowing from another. I should be very angry
if either of the twins did such a thing! If children want money they
should go to their parents, not to strangers; you are all allowed so
much a week pocket-money, and you must each learn to live within your
income, whatever it is. I think you will like school on the whole,
and I believe it will be much better for the boys."
"Oh, yes," Dora agreed, "for George especially; he's so conceited."
"Oh, indeed, miss!" cried George wrathfully, making a rush at his
sister, who fled from the room shrieking with merriment, her brother
after her.
George, a great tease always, could, never bear to have the laugh
turned against himself, and he and Dora were perpetually sparring
with each other, and making it up again.
At Easter Miss Clarke went home to be married, and the short vacation
over, the children were sent to school: the boys to the grammar
school of the town, where they soon settled down quietly enough,
and the girls to a private school about ten minutes' walk from
their home.