“It’s no use trying, Lilias, my dear,” she said, at last, laying her aching head back on the pillow again. “I’m either too ill or too weary to rise. Thank God, it is the day of rest. I shall be better to-morrow.”
But this was not to be. Through all that long day she lay, tossing in restless wakefulness or moaning in feverish slumber. Mrs Blair, too, worn out by her long journey and her sleepless night, seemed unable to make the slightest exertion. Lilias went from one to the other, ministering to their wants; and her loving voice and gentle touch brought comfort to their hearts, though she could not soothe their bodily pain.
“You are a kind little nurse, Lilias,” said her aunt, detaining the hand that had been laid lovingly on her. “I am sure you have the will to help us, if you only had the power.”
“Oh, I wish I could do something for you, aunt! I am afraid you are very weary. Maybe if I were to read a little to you, the time wouldn’t seem so long,” And she laid her hand on her own little Bible as she spoke.
“Yes, love, read: I shall be very glad to listen.”
So she read, in her clear, childish voice, psalm after psalm, till her aunt could not but wonder at the skill with which she seemed to choose those most suitable to their circumstances. By-and-by, after a little pause, she said:
“Some way, I like the Psalms, aunt. Do you not like them? They seem to say what we want to say so much better than we can ourselves.”
“Yes, my child; that is true. And so you like the Psalms best, do you?” said her aunt.
“Not best,—at least, not always;—only when I am weary or sad. There are some chapters in the New Testament that I like best of all. This is Archie’s chapter.” And she turned to the fifteenth of Luke. “Archie thinks it is grand, this about the joy among the angels in heaven; and this, too, about the Father’s love;” and she read, “‘But when the father saw him, he had compassion upon him, and ran, and fell on his neck, and kissed him.’”
“Archie never tires of that,” she said, smiling at her brother, who had been sitting with his eyes fixed upon her, listening as she read. “And this is the one I like best, about Mary, and Martha, and Lazarus.” And she read the eleventh chapter of John, but paused before she got to the end.