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.