"The child is very ill, I am afraid," said Etta, coming across to the window and speaking to the woman in very low tones; "don't you think so?"
"Yes, I am afraid she is," said the person addressed, uneasily, for severe illness in a large, crowded boarding-house is no light matter. She and her children were dependent upon their boarders, and a sudden panic might empty the house.
"Can't you send for a doctor, Mrs. Doyle? Papa will gladly pay him, I know."
"Yes; Johnny could run, I suppose, but he'd be sure to tell somebody, and I wouldn't like it to get about till we know what it is, any way."
"Please go yourself, then. It's after tea, and there isn't much to do."
"But suppose the girl gets worse, and begins to scream and frightens the boarders."
"Oh, I '11 stay with her till you come back. I'd rather; I shall be so anxious to hear what the doctor says. Please go, Mrs. Doyle, and hurry."
Etta Mountjoy had a way with her that could not be resisted by most people, and even Mrs. Doyle, not overgifted with the milk of human kindness, could not refuse her. So she went downstairs, and only stopping to put on her bonnet and tell her eldest daughter to go on with the preparations for breakfast,—which always had to be made over night,—as she was going out for a little while, walked swiftly down the street.
Etta sat on the hard chair by the patient's bed, and for some time watched the tossing limbs, heavy breathing, and flushed, excited face. She was not used to sickness. Indeed, she had never seen it since her mother died, so long ago that she could not remember the pain and the suffering, but only the terrible results, which were pale, cold death, the coffin, the funeral, and the grave.
Did all severe sickness end in death, she wondered? Was this strong, healthy girl about to die? And if so, was she ready? She had never thought of the possibility of death in connection with any of her scholars. Had she taught them the things which alone could be of value to them when they came to stand face to face with a holy God? What advantage then would be familiarity with dates, with geography, and with catechisms? How would they then blame her for not having pointed them to the Lamb of God who taketh away the sins of the world? The responsibility of undertaking to deal with human souls, upon which she had so thoughtlessly rushed, now seemed to her something terrible. True, she had not then known or understood anything about it; but, nevertheless, it now seemed to her a great sin, and an earnest prayer for forgiveness rose up from her heart, accompanied by another for the salvation of the sick girl before her.