has given you a good mind, and that you will gradually learn to do a
great deal with that left hand; write, hold a book and turn the leaves,
and so be able to educate yourself for usefulness in some new line;
perhaps do more for your parents and friends than you ever could have
done with your hammer."
A light broke over his face at her words, "Oh!" he said drawing a long
breath, "if I thought that I could bear it."
"I think you are bearing it bravely," she said.
"I'm tryin' my best," he sighed, "but the Lord only knows how hard it
is; 'specially when folks comes and tells you it's a judgment sent onto
you for your sins."
"And who dares to tell you that?" she cried, flushing with indignation,
"who could be so heartlessly cruel?"
"Well, Damaris was in t'other day. She means well enough, I guess;--she
fetched something she'd cooked up for me--but she don't seem to
understand a feller critter's feelin's. She give me a long lecture; said
I'd been dreadful proud o' my strength and what a neat job I could make
o' shoein' a horse and the like, and so that the Lord took away my hand
to punish me and fetch me down. Do you think 'twas that way, Mis'
Keith? I was thinkin' 'twas my own carelessness and not to be blamed on
Him at all."
"It strikes me that you are very nearly right there," she replied, half
smiling at the earnest simplicity with which he spoke. "He is very
merciful and gracious, full of tender pity and compassion for the
creatures He has made; especially those who are peculiarly His own
because they have accepted of the salvation offered through Christ
Jesus; yet He does not always see fit to save them from the
consequences, as regards this life, of their own follies and sins."
"Carelessness is a sin," he said with a heavy sigh. "I didn't use to
think so, but it's plain enough to me now. And do you think, Mis' Keith,
He feels kind o' sorry for me even though 'twas my own fault?"
"I am sure of it; and that He will give you strength to bear your
trouble if you will ask Him; to bear it bravely and not let it spoil
your life by robbing you of cheerfulness and hope, and the usefulness
you may attain to by a determined, manly struggle with your
difficulties.
"There is a pleasure in overcoming difficulties," she added with a
bright, winning smile, that was like a ray of sunlight to his saddened
heart, "a pleasure that the slothful know nothing of."
"I'll try it!" he said with determination. "God helping me, I will.
Bless you, Mis' Keith, fur them words. I'll not forget 'em."
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
Chapter Twenty-Third.
"The sad vicissitudes of things."
--STERNE.
"MY poor, dear friend, would that I could comfort you!" Mrs. Keith said
in tones of deep heartfelt sympathy, folding her arms about Mrs.
Chetwood and weeping with her; "but only Jesus can do that in such
sorrow as yours."
"And He does, else I should die; for oh my arms are so empty, my heart
and home so desolate!" sobbed the bereaved mother.
"I know it, I know it by sad experience; for I too, have wept over the
grave of a darling little one."
"You?" Mrs. Chetwood said with a look of surprise; "you have so many."
"Yes; but then I had not all I have now. Eva was between Rupert and
Zillah and would be thirteen now. She was five when God took her to
himself."
"Ah, you do know how to feel for me!"
"Yes; and let me tell you how I was comforted. I fear I was not quite
submissive at first; but a dear old mother in Israel, who had several
times passed through the same deep waters, came to me and said 'My dear,
the Lord gave you quite a little flock and when He comes and asks you to
return him one, and you know He will keep it so safely in his kind arms
and on his tender bosom, will you refuse? can you not spare Him one?'
"Then my heart was almost broken to think I had been so churlish toward
my beloved Master and I resigned her cheerfully into His care, and by
and by grew happy in thinking of her, so safe from all sin and sorrow
and pain, so full of joy, at His right hand; and of the time when my
work shall be done and I shall go to her."
Mrs. Chetwood thought for a moment, then turning to her friend with eyes
brimful of tears, "Thank you," she said, "your words have done me good.
Surely I too, can spare Him one. Had He taken all, what right could I
have to complain? and oh, how sweet is the thought that He is caring so
tenderly for my precious lambkin!"
The mothers mingled their tears again for a little, tears of blended
grief and joy; then Mrs. Chetwood said "What else dear friend? I seem
to read in your eyes that you have something more to say to me."
"Only this, suggested to me by the same old Christian soldier and
confirmed by my own experience; that efforts to comfort others react
upon ourselves, so proving the best panacea for our own sorrow."
"I believe it, am conscience-smitten that I have been so selfishly
wrapped up in my own grief, and shall set about the work at once. Will
you do me the favor to suggest where I shall begin?"
Mrs. Keith spoke of Gotobed and the sort of comfort and assistance of
which he stood in need.
Mrs. Chetwood shuddered. "Poor, poor fellow!" she said; "my heart aches
for him. I feel sick at the very thought of seeing any one in that
mutilated condition, but I will go to him and do what I can for his
comfort and relief."
"Thank you," returned Mrs. Keith heartily "And speak comfortingly to the
poor mother. She is grieving very much for him, and does not look well.
One of the little girls, too, is quite ill with intermittent fever."
It was well that Mrs. Keith had engaged her friend to take up the labor
of love, for it was long before she herself could resume it. On
reaching home she found Mildred sitting with Annis in her arms, the
little creature moaning with pain and in a high fever.
"Mother, she is very sick," whispered Mildred tremulously, her eyes full
of tears; for she was thinking of how suddenly Mary Chetwood had been
snatched away by the grim destroyer Death.
"I fear she is, poor darling! poor little pet!" the mother said, bending
over her and softly pressing her lips to the burning cheek.
"O mother, mother, if we should lose her!"
"We will do all we can to make her well, asking God's blessing on our
efforts," Mrs. Keith answered with determined cheerfulness, though a
sharp pang shot through her heart at the bare suggestion.
Dr. Grange was sent for at once. He pronounced the child very ill, but
by no means hopelessly so.
"The sickly season," he remarked, "is setting in unusually early and
with uncommon severity, both in town and country; people are taken down
with the fever every day. But it is what I have been expecting as the
result of the long heavy rains we had all through the spring, succeeded
by this intensely hot, dry weather. Why we haven't had a drop of rain
now, scarcely a cloud, for three weeks; the heavens above us are as
brass, and the marshes and pools of stagnant water on every side are
teeming with miasma.
"Keep the children and yourselves out of the sun during the heat of the
day, and do not on any account allow them to be exposed to the night air
and dew."
"Thank you for your suggestions," said Mr. Keith, "we will do our best
to follow them."
He had just come home from his office; for it was near tea-time. The
children too had come in from their work or play, and the whole family
were gathered in the sitting-room, where the baby girl lay in her
cradle, mother and sister hanging over her in tender solicitude.
Fan had climbed her father's knee and was lying very quiet in his arms
with her head on his shoulder.
The doctor taking his hat to go, paused as his eye fell on her, and
stepping quickly to her side, took her hand in his.
"This child is sick too," he said, and went on to question and prescribe
for her, directing that she should be put to bed at once.
"Oh," sighed Mildred, "if we only had Aunt Wealthy here!"
"I wish you had," the doctor said; "but the neighbors here are always
very kind in times of sickness."
"Yes; we have had experience of that in the past," replied Mrs. Keith.
The doctor called on Mrs. Chetwood and Mrs. Prior on his homeward way,
and within an hour both were at Mr. Keith's offering their services in
nursing or any thing else that was needed.
"You are very kind," Mrs. Keith said, "but I think we can manage for a
while, and that you should save your strength for those who need it
more."
The little ones objected to being waited upon by strangers, and Celestia
Ann insisted that she wanted no help with her housework or cooking; so
the ladies departed after exacting a promise that they should be sent
for if needed.
That time came soon; before the crisis was passed with Annis and Fan,
three more of the children, Zillah, Cyril, and Don, were taken down;
then the father; and oh, what a weary burden of care, anxiety, toil and
grief fell upon the mother and sister! They had sore need now of all the
faith, patience and hope they had garnered up in happier days; of all
the great and precious promises they had learned to lean upon.
Rupert was slowly dressing himself one August morning, feeling weak and
ill, when his mother's pale, sorrowful face looked in at his door.
He tried to brighten up and seem strong and well as he turned to meet
her, asking, "How are you, mother dear? and the sick ones? I hope you
all slept."
"Not much," she said, vainly striving after the accustomed cheery tone.
"Annis and Fan did pretty well (oh, I am thankful that the doctor
considers them out of danger now, if we can only give them the good
nursing they need,) but poor Cyril is quite delirious, very, very sick,
I fear, and Zillah not much better. Besides--" but here her voice broke,
and for a moment she was unable to go on.
"O mother, not another one down?" he cried, "You and Mildred will be
killed with so much nursing."
"Rupert, it is your father now," she sobbed. "He tries to makes us
believe it is not much; that he'll sleep it off in an hour or so, but
oh, I can see that he's very sick."
"My father very sick," he echoed, aghast; "poor father! and you must
lose his help with the others, and have him to nurse, too!"
"That is not the worst of it. He is suffering and perhaps in danger.
Celestia Ann has breakfast nearly ready. I want you to eat at once then
go for the doctor (he did not come last night) and call and tell Mrs.
Chetwood and Mrs. Prior what a sick household we are and that now if
they can give me help in nursing, I shall be very glad and thankful."
Mrs. Keith passed on into the kitchen.
"Breakfast's on table," said Celestia Ann. "You just sit down and eat,
Mis' Keith; fur you look ready to drop. I'll pour you out a cup o'
coffee, and then run in and look after the sick till you're done."
"Thank you," Mrs. Keith said, "though I have no desire for food, I will
accept your offer, for I do feel faint and empty. Tell Mildred to come
too, as soon as she can be spared."
Rupert and Ada came in together at that moment and took their places at
the table.
"Only three of us this morning, 'stead of ten," Ada remarked sadly.
"Well, we'll hope the others will all be back soon;" said Rupert,
longing to comfort and cheer his mother.
His head ached and chills were creeping down his back, but he said
nothing about it, drank his coffee, forced himself to eat a little, and
presently declaring himself done, put on his hat and hurried away on his
errand.
It was now a fortnight since Annis had been taken ill and not a drop of
rain had fallen yet. The nights and mornings were chilly and damp, then
the sun rose and shone all day with a fierce, burning heat that scorched
everything it touched; and day by day the fever had found new victims
till every physician's hands were full to overflowing.
"How chilly it is!" thought Rupert, as he hastened down the path to the
gate, "but it'll be hot enough presently," he added, looking up at the
sky; "not a cloud to be seen, and the sun will be glaring down on us as
fiercely as ever. I think if there isn't some change soon we'll all
sicken and die."
He walked on up the street. Doors and windows were closed; scarcely any
one seemed astir.
"They're sleeping late," he thought "Well who can blame them? they're
either sick themselves or worn out taking care of the sick."
He came first to the hotel. Mrs. Prior was very busy getting breakfast,
but stepped to the door to hear his message.
"I'm dreadful sorry;" she said, "and I'll call round, tell your mother,
just as soon as I can; but I've half a dozen boarders down with the
fever, and only one girl; the rest's all gone off to 'tend to their own
folks; for the fever's bad all round in the country; and between them
and the town folks the doctors is goin' night and day."
"I don't see how you can come at all then, Mrs. Prior," Rupert said, "I
should think your hands must be more than full here at home."
"I'll come if I can, you may depend," she answered, "for I think a sight
of your mother."
The boy sighed heavily as he turned and went on his way. How much of the
brightness seemed to have gone out of life just then.
Dr. Grange's house was a few steps further on. An old lady, the doctor's
mother, answered his knock.
"The doctor is in bed and asleep just now," she said. "He has had very
little rest for the last three weeks, was up all night out in the
country, and came home with a heavy chill. And the rest of the family
are all down with the fever except myself and little five year old
Ellen."
"What are we coming to!" exclaimed the lad.
"I don't know," she answered: "but God is our refuge and strength; a
very present help in trouble!'"
"I do not know what to do," said Rupert, looking sadly perplexed and
anxious; "mother says my father and Cyril are both very ill."
"I will tell the doctor when he wakes, and perhaps he will be able to go
down. It would hardly be worth while to send you for another, for
they're all equally busy."
"Thank you," he said, "we would not like to have to try another," and
bidding her good morning, he went on his way to the Squire's.
Mrs. Chetwood put on her bonnet at once and went with him.
"Claudina would come too," she said, "but two of the boys are sick, and
I'm afraid she is taking the fever herself."
"It seems as if everybody is taking it," said Rupert. "Mrs. Chetwood, is
it often so sickly here?"
"Never was known to be quite so bad before," she answered; "they say the
oldest inhabitant doesn't remember such a time. Do you notice how quiet
and empty the streets are?"
"Yes, ma'am; people seem to be very late in getting up. The stores are
all shut up still."
"There's no business doing at all," she returned, "and people are not
up because they're ill; too ill, most of them, to leave their beds.
"There are not many houses in town where more than one or two are able
to crawl about to help themselves or wait on the sick.
"And Dr. Grange tells me it is just as bad in the country. The harvest
is uncommonly fine, but there's nobody to gather it in; there are loads
of wild berries ripe on the bushes, but nobody able to pick them.
"Emmaretta Lightcap died yesterday; I was there last night and helped to
lay her out. All the rest of the family are in bed with the fever,
except poor Gotobed and his mother.
"Oh, it's a sorrowful time! Effie and one or two of the little ones are
sick at Mr. Prescott's, and in the next house not one of the family is
able to be out of bed."
Mr. Keith was quite as ill as his wife feared.
She devoted herself principally to him, while Mrs. Chetwood and Mildred
together nursed the others.
Rupert had had a chill and fever followed in due season; but he managed
to keep up and to conceal his illness from all but Celestia Ann, who did
the best she could for him.
Mrs. Prior came in for an hour in the after noon, and taking Mildred's
place enabled her to lie down for a little greatly needed rest and
sleep.
Mrs. Chetwood spent the day and night with them, but then went home to
return no more, her own family being no longer able to dispense with her
care and nursing.
Zillah was slightly better that morning, but Mr. Keith, Cyril and Don
were all delirious and so evidently in danger that the hearts of mother
and sister were very heavy.
Mrs. Keith scarcely left her husband's bed side except occasionally to
pass into the next room and bend for a moment over her little boys, to
take Annis or Fan in her arms to caress, and reluctantly put them down
again, and to whisper a word of hope and encouragement to Mildred, the
other little girls and Rupert.
Celestia Ann had full sway in the kitchen, and with genuine kindness of
heart took charge of the rest of the house, so far as she could, and
prepared delicacies for the sick.
She was a great help in looking after the convalescing, had always a
cheery word ready for the weary, anxious nurses, and in short proved
herself invaluable in this great emergency.
What then was their distress and despair when they found they must lose
her.
Glancing from the window on the morning of the second day after that
which Mrs. Chetwood had spent with them, Mildred saw a countryman
passing round toward the kitchen, and in a moment after his voice and
Celestia Ann's could be heard in earnest colloquy, the latter
interrupted by heavy sobs.
Then she appeared at the door of the nursery with her apron to her eyes
and silently beckoned to Mildred.
"What is it?" the latter asked going to her.
"Why my brother's come to fetch me home, and I'll have to go, bad as I
hate to leave you; for if I do say it that shouldn't, I don't see how
you're agoin' to git along without me."
"Nor I," said Mildred, aghast. "O, Celestia Ann, must you go?"
"Yes; can't help it; for they're all down with the fever, 'cept mother
(and she's poorly) and this brother that's come after me; and he's got a
chill on him now. So I'll have to pick up my duds and be off right
away."
"Yes, of course you must go to your own when they need you," said
Mildred; "unless they could get some one else. O, Celestia Ann, don't
you think it possible they could?"
"No; I know they can't, Miss Mildred; there's no help to be got these
days for love or money; and the Lord only knows what's to become of us
all!
"Sam says there's several died in our neighborhood a'ready, just for
want o' good nussin and proper victuals; so the doctor says."
"And just so it will be with us," sobbed Mildred sinking into a chair
and covering her face with her hands. "I cannot nurse them all properly,
and cook what they need to eat; and oh, it is so terrible to think they
must die for want of it."
"It's awful, and I'm dreadful sorry for you and everybody," sighed
Celestia Ann, wiping away the tears that were streaming over her cheeks.
"Maybe you might git Mis' Rood to come in for a few days. I'll git Sam
to go and see while I'm a pickin' up my things.
"She ain't much for cookin' I don't suppose, but she could clean up and
do that big washin', and help a liftin' the sick ones. That is if she'll
come; but I dunno but she may be down sick herself."
Sam kindly undertook the errand, but alas, Mrs. Rood was "down sick
herself," and no help could be had from that quarter, nor apparently,
from any other; and with many tears Celestia Ann took her departure,
saying, "I'll come back as soon as I kin, if I keep well, and my folks
gits able to do without me."
[Illustration]
Chapter Twenty-Fourth.
"Calamity is man's true touch stone."
IT was to Mildred Celestia Ann's parting words were spoken, Mildred
sitting in dumb despair beside the bed, where Cyril and Don lay tossing
and moaning in a burning fever. Her heart sank like lead in her bosom,
as she listened to the rumbling of the wheels of the wagon that was
bearing away her late efficient helper. "What could they do without
her?"
A quiet step crossed the room, a soft hand was laid caressingly on
Mildred's bowed head, and looking up she saw her mother's sweet, pale
face bending over her; a worn and weary face, but with a strange
peacefulness shining through its care and sorrow.
"O mother, mother, whatever shall we do?" cried the girl in a broken
whisper, and with a burst of tears.
Mrs. Keith had a small Bible in her hand, her finger between the leaves.
She laid it open before Mildred, pointed to a passage in the
sixty-second psalm, and just touching her lips to her daughter's
forehead, turned away to the little sufferers on the bed.
"Mother's darlings! mother's poor little men! Try to be very patient and
good like the dear Lord Jesus when he was in pain, and mother hopes you
will soon be well again. She is asking Jesus to make you well."
"I wish he would," moaned Cyril, while; Don uttered some incoherent
words, showing that his mind wandered.
"I'se better, mamma," piped the baby voice of Annis from another bed.
"Fan and me's better. I dess Dod will make us well, 'tause we asked him
to."
"Yes, mother, don't fret about us," joined in Fan and Zillah patiently.
She went over and kissed all three, calling them "dear good children,"
then passed on into the kitchen.
Rupert was there trying to make a custard; Ada washing dishes.
"You see you're not entirely without help in this department yet,
mother," the lad said laughingly.
"No," she answered with a smile that he felt was ample reward for his
efforts, "how are you succeeding?"
"Bravely; at least it looks nice. Please come and tell me if 'tis ready
to be taken off."
"It will be in a moment. Run out and get me a handful of leaves from
that young peach tree, to flavor it with."
He obeyed, she stirring the custard and commending Ada's industry, while
he was gone.
"Here they are, mother; is this enough?" he asked, coming back.
"Quite," she said taking them from him; then as her hand touched his,
"Rupert," she cried with anguish in her tones, "you are sick! burning up
with fever!"
"Heated over the stove, mother," he said, trying to laugh it off, as he
lifted the kettle from the fire and poured its contents into a bowl.
"No, I am not to be deceived," she answered in a choking voice, "you
ought to be in bed now."
He shook his head. "Somebody must keep up; several somebodies to take
anything like proper care of the sick ones. And, mother, I'm as able as
you are; you look dreadfully worn and ill."
She was all that; she felt the chills creeping over her at that moment,
and her head seemed ready to burst; her heart also.
Oh, she had need of all the comfort and support of the words she had
pointed out to Mildred, and of the exhortation contained therein.
"My soul, wait thou only upon God; for my expectation is from him. He
only is my rock and my salvation; he is my defense, I shall not be
moved. In God is my salvation and my glory; the rock of my strength and
my refuge is in God."
She whispered them to herself, as with clasped hands and closed eyes,
she sank heavily into a chair, half unconscious of what she was doing.
Rupert sprang to her side, thinking she was about to faint, and Ada,
with the same thought in her mind, set down the plate she was wiping and
hurried to her also.
They caught the last words. "'The rock of my strength and my refuge is
in God.'"
"Yes, mother, dear," sobbed the lad, putting his arms around her, "and
oh, you know it's a refuge that will never fail. 'Therefore will we not
fear though the earth be removed and though the mountains be carried
into the midst of the sea.' 'Man's extremity is God's opportunity,' and
He will help us through this strait somehow."
"Yes," she whispered, "and though it should be by death, what is that
but going, home? To those of us who love the Lord and trust in His
imputed righteousness," she added, looking earnestly, questioningly into
his face.
"Mother, I believe I do," he said, "though I have never told you so
before."
"Now I can bear it," she whispered, closing her eyes again, while a
sweet smile played about her lips.
Her head dropped heavily on her son's shoulder.
"Oh," shrieked Ada, "she's dying! mother's dying!"
"Hush!" cried Rupert sternly, thinking of the mischief her cry might
work should it reach the ears of the sick ones, "she has only fainted. A
tumbler of water; quick, quick, Ada!"
As the terrified child hastened to do his bidding, Mildred came flying
from the inner room, her face pale, her whole frame trembling with
affright.
"Mother!" the word came in tones of agony from her pale, quivering lips.
"It's only a faint," said Rupert hoarsely. "Help me to lay her down and
loosen her clothes. And haven't you hartshorn or something! whatever
there is.
"Yes, Ada, quick, quick! the bottle of smelling salts! it's on the stand
by father's bedside. O, mother, mother! you too! what's to become of us?
O, Rupert, she's just killed with nursing! and I couldn't help it."