"Oh yes, papa; indeed you are," she answered, timidly.
After this, Mr. Egerton gave her an occasional lesson. Sometimes he forgot all about it for days together, and at other times would get interested in her intelligent way of learning, and give her several lessons day after day. How hard Clarice worked, and how delightedly she taught her new acquirements to Guy! It was new life to Clarice, this world of books; and as to Guy, he soon left her behind in many things, though they still worked together and helped each other.
Mr. Egerton's fancy for teaching Clarice only lasted a few months; about a year and a half. At the end of that time, she was well enough to long to be in the room where the others worked and took their meals; and Aymer and Guy contrived a couch for her, made out of six disabled chairs. On this, by means of stout poles passed under the head and foot, they could lift her without hurting her. A little room inside the parlour, which had hitherto been unused, was got ready for her, Aymer papering it afresh with his own hands; and in this room and the adjoining parlour, lifted from one to the other by her brothers and sisters, did Clarice spend many a year of her young life.
But when she came down-stairs, and was again one of the family, Mr. Egerton quite left off teaching her, or taking any special notice of her. However, by that time, Guy and Clarice could get on by themselves. And many a boy and girl, with teachers and governesses ever trying to improve them, would have wondered at the amount of good solid learning which they contrived to acquire.
Nor was Clarice content to be any longer a useless member of that busy family.
"Mother, dear," she said, "you must teach me to knit and sew and darn. I am afraid I cannot do very much, but even a little will be some help."
She soon learned, being very much in earnest. But, one day, having worked at hemming some stiff new sheets until she was over-tired and a little feverish, she burst into tears, exclaiming that she was a burden and a bother! She could do nothing, though she wished to do so much!
"Clarice, liebchen," said her mother, softly, "listen now to me. It seems to me, dear little one, that you are making a mistake. If you do what you can, the good God knows why you don't do more."
Clarice ceased crying; and after a few moments, she took her velvet-covered Bible from under her pillow, and turned the leaves slowly. At last she found what she wanted, and read aloud the words:
"'She hath done what she could.' Mother, I will try to remember that. It was not much that she did; yet He said that it should be told wherever His Gospel was preached, for a memorial of her. I shall never be good for much; but I'll do what I can."