"It's not that I loved her more, but that I worried her more," murmured the child, in a scarcely audible tone. "They did not plague her, and make her so tired, and bring the tears into her eyes. They did not tell her untruths." The boy was speaking rather to himself than to the clerk; Seth was thinking aloud in the spirit of those touching lines on the death of a mother,—
"And now I recollect with pain
How many times I grieved her sore;
Oh, if she would but come again,
I think I would do so no more!"
The old clerk rose from his seat, for the church-bells were sounding, and it was time for him to go and look out the psalms and the lessons for the day. Ridger had but one word of comfort to give the poor little boy before he left him alone.
"You know that you can pray for the lady," said he.
But could Seth Rogers pray? He never had prayed in his life, no, not even when he had been kneeling close to Miss Lee, while she besought the Lord to bless her and her little pupils. Seth had, alas! been too apt even then to stare around, perhaps trying to make others as careless and inattentive as he was himself. Seth had never once really joined in the prayer of his teacher, he had only been restless and impatient to have the praying-time over.
But when old Ridger had gone away, and the child was left for some minutes alone in the churchyard, then, for the first time, Seth Rogers really did pray. He threw himself again on the ground on which lay the shadow from the grave of his mother, and sobbed forth, "Oh, please—please don't let teacher die, until I've seen her again, and tried to make up for the past."
[PART III.]
The little boy's prayer was answered. On the following day, the doctor told the anxious watchers in the sick-room that he hoped that the worst was over. A night of deep, quiet sleep succeeded, and on the Tuesday morning Miss Lee awoke quite free from fever, but so weak and low, that she could not turn in her bed.
From that hour, the lady's recovery was steady, though slow. It was not till the middle of April that the invalid was permitted to leave her room, and any occupation that could tire either body or mind was strictly forbidden. Miss Lee was, however, able to enjoy sitting in an easy-chair by the open window, as the days grew warm and long. Every morning, she found on the sill a few wild flowers; she did not know who had placed them there, but perhaps my readers may guess.
But Miss Lee only looked upon rest as a preparation for work; her life had not been prolonged to be spent in luxurious ease. As soon as the lady felt that a little strength was restored to her, she began thinking how she could best set about doing her heavenly Father's business.