The dark night

by Lucy Ellen Guernsey

Jeduthun looked inquiringly at the doctor, who nodded in return, and he began to sing, very softly and gently, the old lulling tune of Amsterdam. Christopher listened with evident pleasure. His eyelids presently began to droop, and at last he fell asleep, holding fast to Osric's hand.

"That is worth everything," whispered the doctor. "I hope he will have a good sleep, and wake up himself. Some of you must watch and keep everything quiet outside. Don't try to draw your hand away, Osric. Sit quite still, and, Kissy, have some broth ready to give him, the moment he wakes. I will come over again towards evening, and see how he gets on."

"Don't you think he will live, doctor?" whispered Osric.

"I don't know, my boy. I can tell better when he wakes. He has had a great shock, and we cannot foresee the effects."

As Osric sat by Christopher's bed through the long morning hours, he thought more earnestly than he had ever done before in all his life. He saw how mean and wicked he had been—how selfish and cowardly. He remembered how he had treated his kind little sister the night before, and how he had lied about her. Somehow or other, Osric had always been in the habit of thinking himself rather a good boy, because he did not swear and use bad words, like some of the boys, or fly into a passion at every little thing, like Tom Badger, or sulk, like his brother. But now he saw himself in some degree as he really was, and he was ashamed and disgusted at the sight.

"Oh how mean I have been!" he said to himself. "I wonder if I ever could be as good as Elsie, if I were to try? Perhaps I could if I were to pray and read the Bible as she does. I will try, anyway;" and Osric made a good beginning by laying his head down, confessing his sins to his heavenly Father, and begging for forgiveness and help for his Redeemer's sake.

When Christopher awoke, he was perfectly sensible, but so weak that the doctor thought he would hardly live through the night. He rallied a little towards morning, but for many days, he hovered between life and death, sometimes insensible, at other times deranged and thinking himself again in the burial-vault.

At these times, no one could quiet him like Osric. Osric stayed at Jeduthun's cottage day and night, always at the sick boy's call, never seeming to care for rest or amusement, or anything else, but waiting on Christopher. These days, dreary and anxious as they were, proved the turning-point in Osric Dennison's life. He had many long and profitable talks with Jeduthun and Mrs. Parsons, and learned a great deal. His devotion to his friend was of service to him in another way. Even David, who had thought at first that he never would forgive Osric, felt his heart soften towards him as he saw how thin and pale Ozzy grew day by day, and how careful he was never to go out of calling distance from the cottage, lest Christopher should want him.

David told the story to the other boys, and they all agreed that when Osric came among them once more, they would never reproach him with his faults, but would try and help him to be a good boy.

At last, Christopher was so much better, that the doctor said that he could be taken home. He begged hard that Osric might go with him, and Mr. Dennison consented, thinking justly that the lesson his son was learning was worth more to him than any he would lose in school. Osric stayed all summer at Mrs. Parsons's, who became much attached to him. He on his part, was never weary of waiting on her, and Mr. Ezra Parsons said one day that his sister had lost one son to find two.