“I never knew him to give way before,” interposed Kate. “He used to say, when anything grieved him, 'he 'd pay some one to fret for him.”
“With better health you 'll see his old courage return,” said the doctor, as he hastily wrote a few lines of prescription, and then laying his head in his hand, seemed for some minutes lost in thought. There were little comforts, mat-' ters of trifling luxury he wished to order, and yet he hesitated, for he did not know how far they were compatible with their means; nor could he venture upon the hazard of offending by questioning them. As in his uncertainty he raised his eyes, they fell upon the wooden figure which the dwarf had exhibited in the apothecary's shop, and which now stood upon a table near. It was a child sleeping at the foot of a cross, around which its arms were entwined. The emaciated limbs and wasted cheek portrayed fasting and exhaustion, while in the attitude itself, sleep seemed verging upon death.
“What is that?” asked he, hastily, as he pointed with his pen to the object.
“A poor child was found thus, frozen to death upon the Arlberg,” said Kate; “and my sister carved that figure from a description of the event.”
“Your sister! This was done by you,” said Grounsell, slowly, as he turned his gaze from the work to the artist.
“Yes,” cried Hans, whose face beamed with delight; “is it not 'lieblich?' is it not vonderful? Dass, I say, alway; none have taste now none have de love to admire!”
Stooping down to examine it better, Grounsell was struck by the expression of the face, whereon a smile of trustfulness and hope seemed warring with the rigid lines of coming death; so that the impression conveyed was more of a victory over suffering than of a terrible fate.
“She is self-taught, sir; none even so much as assisted Ler by advice,” said Kate, proudly.
“That will be perhaps but too apparent from my efforts,” said Ellen, smiling faintly.