Melbourne House Part 53

"But, papa, how can you sleep?"

"I can do without sleeping, if it is necessary. I will take a chair here in the doorway, and be near if you want anything."

"Oh, I shall not want anything, papa, except what Juanita can give me."

He stood still, watching her. Daisy looked up at him with a loving face; a wise little face it always was; it was gravely considerate now.

"Papa, I am afraid you will be uncomfortable."

"Can n.o.body bear that but you?" said Mr. Randolph, stooping down to kiss her.

"I am very happy, papa," said the child, placidly; while a slight tension of her forehead witnessed to the shooting pains with which the whole wounded limb seemed to be filled.

"If Mr. Randolph pleases," said the voice of Juanita, ? "the doctor recommended quiet, sir."

Off went Mr. Randolph at that, as if he knew it very well, and had forgotten himself. He took a chair, and set it in the open doorway, using the door-post as a rest for his head; and then the cottage was silent. The wind breathed more gently; the stars shone out; the air was soft after the storm; the moonlight made a bright flicker of light and shade over all the outer world. Now and then a gra.s.shopper chirruped, or a little bird murmured a few twittering notes at being disturbed in its sleep; and then came a soft sigh from Daisy.

On noiseless foot the black woman stole to the couch. Daisy was weeping; her tears were pouring out and making a great wet spot on her pillow.

"Is my love in pain?" whispered the black woman.

"It's nothing ? I can't help it," said Daisy.

"Where is it ? in the foot?"

"It's all over, I think; in my head and everywhere. Hush, Juanita; never mind."

Mrs. Benoit, however, tried the soothing effect of a long gentle brus.h.i.+ng of Daisy's head. This lasted till Daisy said she could bear it no longer. She was restless.

"Will my love hear a hymn?"

"It will wake papa."

Mrs. Benoit cared nothing for that. Her care was her poor little charge. She began immediately one of the hymns that were always ready on her tongue, and which were wonderfully soothing to Daisy. Juanita was old, but her voice was sweet yet and clear; and she sang with a deal of quiet spirit.

"A few more days or years at most, My troubles sell be o'er; I hope to join the heavenly host On Canaan's happy sh.o.r.e.

My raptured soul shall drink and feast In love's unbounded sea; The glorious hope of endless rest Is ravis.h.i.+ng to me."

Mr. Randolph raised his head from leaning against the door- post, and turned it to listen; with a look of lowering impatience. The screen of the hanging curtain was between him and the couch, and the look did n.o.body any harm.

"Oh, come, my Saviour, come away, And bear me to the sky!

Nor let thy chariot wheels delay ?

Make haste and bring it nigh: I long to see Thy glorious face, And in Thy image s.h.i.+ne; To triumph in victorious grace, And be forever Thine."

Mr. Randolph's chair here grated inharmoniously on the floor, as if he were moving; but Juanita went on without heeding it.

"Then will I tune my harp of gold To my eternal King.

Through ages that can ne'er be told I'll make Thy praises ring.

All hail, eternal Son of G.o.d, Who died on Calvary!

Who bought me with His precious blood, From endless misery."

Mr. Randolph stood by Mrs. Benoit's chair. "My good woman," he said, in suppressed tones, "this is a strange way to put a patient to sleep."

"As your honour sees!" replied the black woman, placidly.

Mr. Randolph looked. Daisy's eyes were closed; the knitted brow had smoothed itself out in slumber; the deep breath told how profound was the need that weakness and weariness had made. He stood still. The black woman's hand softly drew the curtain between Daisy's face and the moonlight, and then she noiselessly withdrew herself almost out of sight, to a low seat in a corner. So Mr. Randolph betook himself to his station in the doorway; and whether he slept or no, the hours of the night stole on quietly. The breeze died down; the moon and the stars shone steadily over the lower world; and Daisy slept, and her two watchers were still. By and by, another light began to break in the eastern horizon, and the stars grew pale. The morning had come.

The birds were twittering in the branches before Daisy awoke.

At the first stir she made, her father and Mrs. Benoit were instantly at her side. Mr. Randolph bent over her, and asked tenderly how she felt.

"I feel hot, papa."

"Everybody must do that," said Mr. Randolph. "The breeze has died away, and the morning is very close."

"Papa, have you been awake all night?"

He stooped down and kissed her.

"You must go home and get some breakfast, and go to sleep,"

Daisy said, looking at him lovingly with her languid eyes.

"Shall I bring you anything from home, Daisy?" he said, kissing her again.

The child looked a little wistfully, but presently said no; and Mr. Randolph left her, to do as she had said. Mrs. Benoit was privately glad to have him out of the way. She brought water, and bathed Daisy's face and hands, and gave her a delicate breakfast of orange; and contrived to be a long while about it all, so as to rest and refresh her as much as possible. But when it was all done, Daisy was very hot and weary and in much pain. And the sun was only in the tops of the trees yet. The black woman stood considering her.

"It will be a hot day, Miss Daisy ? and my little lady is suffering already, when the dew is not dried off the gra.s.s.

Can she say, 'Thank the Lord'?"

Daisy first smiled at her; then the little pale face grew grave, the eyelids fell, and the black woman saw tears gathering beneath them. She stood looking somewhat anxiously down at the child; till, after a few minutes, the eyelids were raised again, and the eyes gave her a most meek and loving response, while Daisy said faintly, "Yes, Juanita."

"Bless the Lord!" said Juanita, with all her heart. "Then my love can bear it, the hot day and the pain and all. When His little child trust Him, Jesus not stay far off. And when He giveth quietness, then who can make trouble?"

"But I have a particular reason, Juanita. I am very glad of my hurt foot; though it does ache."

"The aching will not be so bad by and by," said the woman, her kindly face all working with emotion.

She stood there by Daisy's couch and prayed. No bathing nor breakfast could so soothe and refresh Daisy as that prayer.

While she listened and joined in it, the feeling of yesterday came all back again; that wonderful feeling that the Lord Jesus loves even the little ones that love Him; that He will not let a hair of their heads be hurt; that He is near, and keeps them, and is bringing them to Himself by everything that He lets happen to them.

Greatly refreshed and comforted, Daisy lay quiet looking out of the open window, while Juanita was busy about, making a fire and filling her kettle for breakfast. She had promised Daisy a cup of tea and a piece of toast; and Daisy was very fond of a cup of tea, and did not ordinarily get it; but Mrs.

Benoit said it would be good for her now. The fire was made in a little out-shed, back of the cottage, where it would do n.o.body any harm, even in hot weather.

Daisy was so quieted and comforted, though her leg was still aching, that she was able to look out and take some pleasure in the sparkling morning light which glittered on the leaves of the trees and on the blades of gra.s.s; and to hearken to the birds which were singing in high feather all around the cottage. The robins especially were very busy, whistling about in and under the trees; and a kildeer, quite near, from time to time sung its soft sweet song; so soft and tender, it seemed every time to say in Daisy's ears, "What if I am sick and in pain and weary? Jesus sends it ? and He knows ? and He is my dear Saviour." It brought the tears into Daisy's eyes at length; the song of the kildeer came so close home into her heart.