Not a thought of fear crossed her mind, although Mrs. Maxwell had gone to the kitchen in the basement, and there was no one near to aid her, if her brother should attempt in his delirium to injure her. Love to God made her trust in His protection; love to her brother made her forgetful of danger to herself while striving to be useful to him. She bathed his burning forehead, and moistened his parched lips, and often spoke to him tenderly, hoping he might answer her naturally. Sometimes, for a moment, she fancied he knew her, but as she bent to catch his words, some unmeaning sentence would convince her she was mistaken. How welcome was the sound of her father's footstep! Unconscious of any evil, Dr. Vale entered the house, and was hurried to Harty's bedside. Lucy watched his face as he felt her brother's pulse and noticed his other symptoms, and her heart grew sadder yet as she read his deep anxiety.
Mrs. Maxwell told him how fretful and indifferent to food Harty had appeared during the day, and of his unusual nap in the evening; and as she did so, Lucy felt grateful that she had borne pleasantly with her brother's ill-humour, which had, no doubt, been caused in part by disease. How painful her feelings would have been if she had treated him with unkindness, though with ever so great provocation! Children can never know how soon the illness or death of their friends may make them bitterly lament the slightest harshness towards them.
When Dr. Vale had given Harty such medicines as he thought most sure to give him relief, he for the first time noticed Lucy, who had kept by the bedside. Even in his sadness, he almost smiled at the funny little figure wrapped in the thick coat, with only the face visible, looking out from the nightcap.
"Go to bed, child; you can do no good here, and it will make you ill to lose your sleep," he said to her, gently.
"But, father," she pleaded, "I shall not sleep if I do go to bed; I can't bear to leave poor Harty."
"Mrs. Maxwell and I can do all that is needed for him to-night, my dear," said he, kissing her sorrowful face. "To-morrow we shall want you to run about and wait on us. Go, take some rest, like a good child, that you may be able to be useful in the morning."
With this motive to console her, Lucy went to her room. When there, all the fearful reality of Harty's illness came fully upon her. He might be taken from her, she thought, and at the very idea her tears flowed fast, and her heart throbbed with distress. Lucy did not long forget the heavenly Friend to whom she had learned to go in all her trials. Now she prayed earnestly to Him to spare her brother's life, or grant him his reason, that he might be able to realize his awful situation if he indeed must die. After this prayer she felt more composed, although very, very sad. At last she fell asleep, and did not wake until the sun was several hours high.
Her first thought in waking was of her brother. She stole gently to his door. Mrs. Maxwell was sitting beside him: she motioned to Lucy to go away, and made a sign that Harty was sleeping.
The sorrow and anxiety of that day would have been harder for Lucy to bear, if she had not been so busy. Mrs. Maxwell did not leave the sick-room, and Dr. Vale was there nearly all the time; but unwilling as he was to leave his son, he was obliged to visit other patients several times during the day.
Lucy was kept almost constantly in motion. She brought for Mrs. Maxwell what was needed from the surgery or the kitchen, and carried messages in all directions. She carefully placed a little chair by the door, and there she sat silently, to be ready whenever she might be wanted.