CHAPTER VII IN EVERYTHING GIVE THANKS WE us. "Be it joy or sorrow Which lieth in thy way, E do not in general feel half thankful enough for the kind Providence which shields us from knowing what evils will befall If we, in the midst of present peace, happiness, and comfort, were aware of some great sorrow soon to come upon us, would not the golden fruits of happiness turn to ashes within our mouths? Should we not, in the clearest, bluest sky, be always on the look out for that cloud no bigger than a man's hand, so soon to spread itself over our horizon? When Kate and Lucy left home for their visit to the Manor Farm, nothing could have been clearer than the sky over their heads, and nothing apparently brighter than their prospects. Now, a few short weeks had changed everything; and, come what might, they never could go back to what they were before. This visit would leave a mark on both their lives which could never be effaced. To be sure, Lucy had escaped from a fearful death, but she was condemned to a melancholy life, a life of trial and of pain; while Kate, who had always vague ideas of living in an impossible dream-land, now found herself called upon to take her place in the hive as a working bee, and no longer as a drone! She did not yet understand that it is the working bee which gathers the honey; but she was soon to learn that the flowers which grow in the path we have daily to tread contain sweeter honey than those we sigh for in vain, out of the beaten track. Kate was very young; life was for her only in its morning and though clouds had gathered overhead, yet they cleared away again at last, leaving only a purer, more chastened brightness behind them. It was not till full three weeks had passed since Lucy's accident that Kate was allowed to enter her room. Miss Elwyn felt very sorry for her as she often saw her eyes turned wistfully to the door which was open for others, but shut against her. It was her punishment, and she felt it to be so. She knew she deserved it for her selfishness and want of control, but that only seemed to make it harder to bear. At last, when Lucy was pronounced much better, Mr Elwyn interceded for her with the doctor, and Kate was told she might see her sister if she would promise to be calm, and not to excite her. The three weeks' probation had taught Kate many a useful lesson, and she managed to restrain her feelings; and instead of throwing herself into Lucy's arms, and telling her all, as she was much tempted to do, she was able to quietly kiss that pale gentle face, and place in her little wasted hand a rosebud she had gathered from Lucy's favourite tree. Lucy's sweet wan smile, and the low voice in which she thanked her, nearly upset Kate again, but she composed herself bravely; and soon becoming more accustomed to her little sister's altered looks, she was able to take her place daily at her side, and do many little things to help and comfort her. When Lucy was able to be lifted out of bed and placed on a low easy couch near the open window, there was great joy in the whole household. She was still very weak, and unable to bear any noise, but she had quite recovered the shock to her head. It was her spine that was the most injured, and it was very unlikely that she would ever regain the full use of her limbs. Martin Bourke was her most constant visitor when she was allowed to see any one again. When work was over, he would sit by her side for an hour at a time, and amuse her by his never-ending stories and accounts of his adventures. It was quite as amusing as a story-book without the trouble of reading, Lucy thought, and there was not a place nor a thing that she could mention that Martin did not know all about. When Lucy lay quite still, she was in no pain, and at those times she thought it was worth while being ill to have so many kind friends always ready to entertain her; but at night she generally felt hot and restless, and then, if she moved, the pain in her back was very bad; then indeed poor Lucy felt deeply what a trial it was to be thus laid up. The long dark hours were very trying, when the pain was so acute that she could not sleep, and she lay listening to the regular ticking of the clock, and longing for morning. Then when morning came she was often too tired and exhausted with her feverish night to be able to enjoy anything. The hot summer weather had now again set in, after three weeks of incessant rain. The sun poured into her room in the afternoons with such force that it was impossible to keep the room cool, and the constant weariness occasioned by the want of fresh air prevented her recovering her strength. It was many weeks before she was strong enough to be placed on her couch under the shade of the cedar tree, but when once the doctor had given leave for her to go there, it became her regular resting-place. |