The joyful news spread through the household, and many thanksgivings went up to the God who dispenses sickness and health. Rejoiced as all were at the idea of seeing Harty once more in health, there was in every heart a deeper cause of gratitude: they might now hope that he would not be called to meet his Father in heaven while yet a disobedient, wandering child. Time might yet be given him to learn, to know, and love that Father, and walk in His holy ways.
When Harty was again conscious of what was going on around him, his father was with him. "Don't trouble yourself to think now, my dear boy," said Dr. Vale, soothingly. "I hope you will soon be much better; and I pray God that He will enable you to lead a new life. Lie still now, and you will soon fall asleep again, to wake much refreshed, I hope."
Harty's recovery was slow and tedious. He was very weak, and little inclined to talk. He seemed most contented when Rosa was singing to him some pretty hymn, and Lucy was sitting by him on the bed smoothing his hair, or fanning him gently.
His large eyes looked sunken and thoughtful, and his manner, once boisterous, was mild and gentle.
"Don't move for me again this morning, dear Lucy," he said one day; "your little feet must be very tired with running up and down stairs. When I get well I shall have to wait on you all the rest of my life to repay you for this kindness."
This was so unlike the old, exacting Harty, that it quite overcame little Lucy, and the tears were in her eyes as she answered, "I love to do anything for you, my dear brother. I want nothing from you but to get well as soon as you can, and look bright, and merry, and tease me as you used to do."
A sad smile crossed Harty's face, as he said, "I don't mean to do as I used to do in anything, Lucy. You will forget how unkind I was to you, won't you, pet? I don't think I shall be so any more."
Lucy's tears fell fast. Don't talk so, Harty," she said; "You were never unkind to me. I was a foolish little thing, and let everything worry me. Come, we won't talk any more; you look tired. Here is Rosa, she will sing,—
'Softly now the light of day,'—
while you take a nice little nap."