MRS. REARDON had followed Dr. Harding's advice, and given her husband plenty of "kitchen physic." It was wonderful what nice strengthening broth, together with other nourishing things, she contrived to make out of an old mahogany press which had been in her possession ever since she could remember, having formerly belonged to her mother. It was not much used of late in consequence of there being so little to put in it, and when sold was scarcely missed, save that it made the large room look still more large and dreary—the more especially as it was soon found necessary to turn one or two other articles of their scanty furniture into money for the same purpose. But the worst of it was that it did not appear to have made him any stronger.
Being greatly occupied in this manner, Mrs. Reardon had had no time to finish Mrs. Browne's work, and was consequently unaware of the heavy trial that awaited her when she should discover that their sole means of support was about to be taken from them. Truly has it been said "that it is a righteous as well as a tender hand which keeps the next day's page carefully folded down."
Weary as she was, a ray of hope stole into Mrs. Reardon's heart as she sat at needlework, with the nice savoury broth simmering away on the hob, and the voice of her husband, who sometimes rallied wonderfully towards evening, sounding quite cheerful as he and the little ones conversed together.
"Who knows," thought the poor loving wife, "but what he may be spared to me after all? I don't mind how hard I work, or how poor we are, or what we are obliged to part with, so that we can keep him, and nurse and make him well again."
The children were talking of "the wonderful book," as Bessie called it.
"You never told me," said Matthew, "how it was that Christian got rid of his burden."
"That's just about the most beautiful part, father," said Bessie. "I can't remember it quite as well as it is in the book, only that it was very heavy for him to carry, and all up-hill till he got to the cross."
"I can readily believe," said Matthew, "that it must have been up-hill work getting to the cross with such a load of sins weighing a man down, especially for any one who did not rightly know the way."
"I don't think that Christian knew it very well," said Polly, "for he lost his way a good many times. But he got there safe at last."
"Yes," interrupted Bessie eagerly. "I recollect it all now. No sooner had Christian come up to the cross than the bundle fell off his back and was never seen any more. 'Then was he glad and lightsome, and said, with a merry heart, He has given me rest by his sorrow, and life by his death.' And then he stood awhile to look and wonder until the springs that were in his head sent the water down his cheeks—which means, teacher says, that he began to cry—why, father, you are crying too."