I kept Walter over at mother's for more than a fortnight, while Emily remained here to assist me in the care of the little sufferer. Even when her face was so much swollen as to close her eyes, she was patient and gentle as a lamb. "Dear mamma," she would say, "will God let me see my little brother again? Please ask God to make me well quick; this don't make Pauline's face feel nice."
When she had repeatedly begged that Walter might be brought to the bed where she could hear his voice, I explained to her that we feared, if he came, he would be sick too, and his eyes just like hers. After this, the patient sufferer with true self-denial, said, "Mamma, won't you be sick too? I will try to lie still if you can't come. I want to get well to see my brother, but he mustn't come here, because he will take the sick too," she repeated to every one after this.
Frank began to grow seriously alarmed, as week after week passed away, and she had nearly recovered from the effects of the measles, to find that her cough still continued. He feared lest her lungs might be affected. From being a very plump, rosy child, she had become extremely pale and thin. Her eyes looked unnaturally large and thoughtful. Her complexion which in health is the richest brunette, was almost sallow. I felt that she was growing too mature. Her questions were so serious and showed so much thought, that I would often catch her in my arms, and feel that I could not give her up. I saw that Frank watched her very closely, and administered to her with the tenderest care. But I dared not ask him what he thought.
"Mamma," said Pauline one day, "will you please teach me a little hymn?"
"Why, my love!" I asked, struck by the expression of her countenance.
"I want more hymns to say in the night. I have said 'Mary had a little lamb,' and 'I knew a little cottage girl,' and all my other hymns, and then I say 'Now I lay me' a great many times over, because that's so short, and I want to learn more."
"But, Pauline, why don't you shut your eyes, and go to sleep?"
"I do shut my eyes, mamma; but they won't stay shut, and the moon looks so bright, I like to see it. Then I say, 'God made the sky that looks so blue.' Is there a hymn, mamma, about the moon?"
I taught her "twinkle, twinkle little star," but with a sad weight at my heart. That night I took Frank alone, and asked him if he knew Pauline lay awake at night repeating hymns.
He tried to turn away as he replied that he had often heard her whispering to herself.