The Trial [16]
'You are better for your sleep.' 'Yes, thank you--much better.' The Doctor signed towards a tray, which stood by a spirit-lamp, on a table in the further corner. Mary silently brought it, and as quietly obeyed the finger that directed her to cordial and spoon-- well knowing the need--since that unserviceable right arm always made these operations troublesome to her father. 'Have you been here all night, Dr. May?' 'Yes; and very glad to see you sleeping so well.' 'Thank you.' And there was something that made Mary's eyes dazzle with tears in the tone of that 'Thank you.' The Doctor held out his hand for the spoon she had prepared, and there was another 'Thank you;' then, 'Is Ave there?' 'No, I made her go to bed. She is quite well; but she wanted sleep sorely.' 'Thank you,' again said the boy; then with a moment's pause, 'Dr. May, tell me now.' Mary would have fled as breaking treacherously in upon such tidings; but a constraining gesture of her father obliged her to remain, and keep the cordial ready for immediate administration. 'My dear, I believe you know,' said Dr. May, bending over him--and Mary well knew what the face must be saying. 'Both?' the faint tones asked. 'Recollect the sorrow that they have been spared,' said Dr. May in his lowest, tenderest tones, putting his hand out behind him, and signing to Mary for the cordial. 'She could not have borne it;' and the feebleness of those words made Mary eager to put the spoon once more into her father's hands. 'That is right, my boy. Think of their being together;' and Mary heard tears in her father's voice. 'Thank you,' again showed that the cordial was swallowed; then a pause, and in a quiet, sad, low tone, 'Poor Ave!' 'Your mending is the best thing for her.' Then came a long sigh; and then, after a pause, the Doctor knelt down, and said the Lord's Prayer--the orphan's prayer, as so many have felt it in the hour of bereavement. All was quite still, and both he and Mary knelt on for some short space; then he arose in guarded stillness, hastily wiped away the tears that were streaming over his face, and holding back the curtain, showed Mary the boy, again sunk into that sweet refreshing sleep. 'That is well over,' he said, with a deep sigh of relief, when they had moved to a safe distance. 'Poor fellow! he had better become used to the idea while he is too weak to think.' 'He is better?' asked Mary, repressing her agitation with difficulty. 'I believe the danger is over; and you may tell his sister so when she wakes.'
CHAPTER III
And a heart at leisure from itself To soothe and sympathize.--Miss Waring
Recovery had fairly set in, and 'better' was the universal bulletin, eating and drinking the prevailing remedy. Henry Ward had quickly thrown off his illness. The sense that all depended on him, acted as a stimulus to his energies; he was anxious to be up and doing, and in a few days was down-stairs, looking over his father's papers, and making arrangements. He was eager and confident, declaring that his sisters should never want a home while he lived; and, when he first entered his brother's room, his effusion of affection overwhelmed Leonard in his exceeding weakness, and the thought of which during the rest of the day often brought tears to his eyes. Very grateful to Dr. May, Henry declared himself anxious to abide by his advice; and discussed with him all his plans. There had been no will, but the house and land of course were Henry's. The other property gave about L2000 to each of the family; and Averil had about as much again from the old aunt, from whom she had taken her peculiar name. The home of all should, of course, still be their present one; Averil would teach her sisters, and superintend the house, and Leonard continue at the school, where he had a fair chance of obtaining the Randall scholarship in the course of a year or two. 'And if not,' said Henry, 'he may still not lose his University education. My father was proud of Leonard; and if he would have sent him there, why should not I?' And when Dr. May thought how his own elder
CHAPTER III
And a heart at leisure from itself To soothe and sympathize.--Miss Waring
Recovery had fairly set in, and 'better' was the universal bulletin, eating and drinking the prevailing remedy. Henry Ward had quickly thrown off his illness. The sense that all depended on him, acted as a stimulus to his energies; he was anxious to be up and doing, and in a few days was down-stairs, looking over his father's papers, and making arrangements. He was eager and confident, declaring that his sisters should never want a home while he lived; and, when he first entered his brother's room, his effusion of affection overwhelmed Leonard in his exceeding weakness, and the thought of which during the rest of the day often brought tears to his eyes. Very grateful to Dr. May, Henry declared himself anxious to abide by his advice; and discussed with him all his plans. There had been no will, but the house and land of course were Henry's. The other property gave about L2000 to each of the family; and Averil had about as much again from the old aunt, from whom she had taken her peculiar name. The home of all should, of course, still be their present one; Averil would teach her sisters, and superintend the house, and Leonard continue at the school, where he had a fair chance of obtaining the Randall scholarship in the course of a year or two. 'And if not,' said Henry, 'he may still not lose his University education. My father was proud of Leonard; and if he would have sent him there, why should not I?' And when Dr. May thought how his own elder