‘Why, Alfred,’ said she, ‘you must be much better.’
Ellen looked mournful at this, and shook her head so that Miss Jane turned her bright face to her in alarm.
‘No, Ma’am,’ said Alfred. ‘Dr. Blunt says I can never get over it.’
‘And does that make you glad?’ almost gasped Miss Jane.
‘No, Ma’am,’ said Alfred; ‘but Mr. Cope has been talking to me, and made it all so—’
He could not get out the words; and, besides, he saw Miss Jane’s eyes winking very fast to check the tears, and Ellen’s had begun to rain down fast.
‘I didn’t mean to be silly,’ said little Jane, in rather a trembling voice; ‘but I’m sorry—no—I’m glad you are happy and good, Alfred.’
‘Not good, Miss Jane,’ cried Alfred; ‘I’m such a bad boy, but there are such good things as I never minded before—’
‘Well then, I think you’ll like what I’ve brought you,’ said Jane eagerly.
It was a little framed picture of our Blessed Lord on His Cross, all darkness round, and the Inscription above His Head; and Miss Jane had painted, in tall Old English red letters, under it the two words, ‘For me.’