“Yes, I know,” said Helen; “but I have it in my power to make her so much more comfortable. It may preserve, at least lengthen, her life.”
When little Mary opened her eyes the next morning, she half believed herself in fairy-land. Soft fleecy curtains were looped about her head, her little emaciated hand rested upon a silken coverlet, a gilded table stood by her bed-side, the little cup from which her lips were moistened was of bright silver, and a sweet face was bending over her, shaded by a cloud of golden hair, that fell like a glory about her head.
“Where am I?” said the child, crossing her little hands over her bewildered brain.
Helen smiled. “You are my little bird now, dear. How do you like your cage?”
“It is very, very pretty,” said Mary, with childish delight; “but won’t you get tired of waiting upon a poor little sick girl? Mamma was used to it. You don’t look as if you could work.”
“Don’t I?” said Helen, with a slight blush; “for all that you’ll see how nicely I can take care of you, little one. I’ll sing to you, I’ll read to you, I’ll tell you pretty stories, and when you are weary of your couch, I’ll fold you in my arms, and rock you so gently to sleep. And when you get better and stronger, you shall have so many nice toys to play with, and I’ll crown your little bright head with pretty flowers, and make you nice little dresses; and now I’m going to read to you. Betty has been out, and bought you a little fairy story about a wonderful puss; and here’s ‘Little Timothy Pip;’ which will you have?”
“Mamma used to read to me out of the Bible,” said little Mary, as her long lashes swept her cheek.
Helen started; a bright crimson flush passed over her face, and bending low, she kissed the child’s forehead reverentially.
“About the crucifixion, please,” said Mary, as Helen seated herself by her side.
That Holy Book! Helen felt as if her hands were “unclean.” She began to read: perhaps the print might not have been clear; but she stopped often, and drew her small hand across her eyes. Her voice grew tremulous. Years of worldliness had come between her, and that sad, touching story. It came upon her now with startling force and freshness. Earth, with its puerile cares and pleasures, dwindled to a point. Oh, what “cross” had her shoulders borne? What “crown of thorns” had pierced her brows? How had her careless feet turned aside from the footsteps of Calvary’s meek sufferer!