“Does Dr Gordon think my mother worse?”
“She is not much better, I fear, love,” said her aunt, drawing her towards her, and holding her hands firmly in her own. Lilias gave a fearful glance into her face. The truth flashed upon her; but she put it from her in terror.
“We must have patience, aunt. She has had no time to grow better yet.”
“Yes, love; we must have patience. Whatever God shall see fit to send on us, we must not distrust Him, Lilias.”
“Yes, we must have patience,” said the child, scarcely knowing what she said. She went and knelt down beside the bed, and spoke to her mother; but her voice had no power to rouse her from the heavy slumber into which she had fallen. In a little while she rose, and went quietly about arranging the things in the room. Then, with needless care, the supper was placed on the table; for none of them could taste food. Then her brother was prepared for bed; but all the time she spoke no word, and went about like one in a dream.
When she stooped to kiss her brother a good-night, the little boy clasped his arms about her neck, and wept aloud. But she did not weep; she laid her head down on the pillow beside him, gently soothing him with hand and voice; and, when at last he had sobbed himself to sleep, she disengaged his arms from her neck, and, rising, placed herself on a low stool beside her mother’s bed.
Mrs Blair thought it better to leave her to herself. Indeed, what could she say to comfort her? And so the child sat a long time gazing into her mother’s face, her own giving no sign of the struggle that was going on within. At first the one thought that filled her mind was that it was impossible her mother could be going to die. It seemed too dreadful to be true; and, then, it was so sudden! Her father had been with them for months after they knew that he must die, and her mother had been quite well only three days ago. No; it could not be!
And, yet, such things had been before. She thought of a little girl, rosy and strong, who had sickened and died in three short days; and it might be so with her mother. How should she ever live without her? Oh, if she could only die too, and have done with life and its struggles! Everything was forgotten in the misery of the moment; and with a moan that revealed to her aunt something of what she was suffering, she leaned forward on the bed.
“Lily,” said a voice beside her.
Lilias started. It was the first time her mother had spoken during the day, and the child bent eagerly over her and kissed her.