Would that night never go? Its hours to Claudia seemed weeks. The shock of an impending loss would of itself have been hard enough to bear; but to remember that by her own indifference to home she had perhaps missed seeing her father again alive—that was worse than all.
And then, as she thought of the sick-room, she remembered her mother. How had she contrived for years not to see that in the daily care of that patient woman there lay the first call for a dutiful daughter?
It was noble to work; and there was a work for every one to do.
But why had she foolishly gone afield to look for occupation and a place in life, when an obvious duty and a post she alone could best fill lay at home? If God would only give her time to amend!
It was a limp, tear-stained, and humbled Claudia who reached home by the first train the next morning.
Her father was alive—that was granted to her. Her mother had borne up bravely, but the struggle was obvious.
A nurse was in possession of the sick-chamber, and Claudia could only look on where often she fain would have been the chief worker.
But the room for amendment was provided. Mr. Haberton recovered very slowly, and was warned always to use the utmost care. Mrs. Haberton, when the worst of her husband's illness was over, showed signs of collapse herself.
A New Ministry
Claudia gave herself up to a new ministry. Her mother no longer called for Pinsett; Mr. Haberton found an admirable successor to his trained nurse.