Page:010 Once a week Volume X Dec 1863 to Jun 64.pdf/367

 19, 1864.] sir, just as four o’clock was a striking from St. Mark’s church. Mrs. Gilbert on the Rise is took with her fever again, sir, and she won’t have nobody but Hutton to nurse her.”

Mr. Stephen Grey ran over the sisterhood in his mind, but could think of none available just then. He beckoned the woman from the room.

“Hark ye, Mother Pepperfly,” he said, in a stern tone. “You know your failing; new if you dare to give way to it this time, as you have done before, you shall never again nurse a patient of mine or my brother’s. You can do your duty—none better—if you choose to keep in a fit state to do it. Take care you do so.”

Mrs. Pepperfly squeezed out a tear. She’d be upon her Bible oath, if Mr. Stephen chose to put her to it, not to touch nothing no stronger than table beer. Mr. Stephen, however, did not put her to the ordeal.

There was sufficient hustle in the house that might; but by the morning quiet and peace had supervened; and Nurse Pepperfly, on her best behaviour, was carrying about, wrapped in flannel, a wee wee infant.

Judith had not left Mrs. Crane’s side during the night, and the latter appeared to be drawn to her by some attraction, to find comfort in her genuine sympathy.

“You have been a good girl, Judith,” Mr. Stephen said to her as he was leaving in the morning, and she went down to open the door for him.

“Will she do well, sir?” asked Judith.

“Famously,” answered Mr. Stephen. “Never had a safer case in my life. Give a look to Mother Pepperfly, Judith. I trust her as far as I can see her. I shall be back in a couple of hours.”

Things went on well during the day. Mrs. Pepperfly busied herself chiefly with the baby, nursing it by the fire in the sitting-room; Judith attended on the sick lady. In the afternoon, Mrs. Crane, who was lying awake, suddenly addressed her.

“Judith, how is it you are able to be with me? I thought the landlady told me you were in service.”

“Not just now, ma'am. I have been in service, but have left my place, and am stopping with my sister, at the next door, while I look out for another.”

“Does your sister let lodgings, as Mrs. Gould does?”

“A lady lives at the next door, a Mrs. Jenkinson,” was Judith’s reply, “and my sister is her servant. Margaret has lived with her going on for eleven years.”

“So that just now you are at liberty?”

“Quite so, ma'am.”

“See now how merciful God is!” spoke Mrs. Crane, placing her hands together in an attitude of reverence. “Last night when I began to feel ill, and thought I should have nobody about me but that timid Mrs. Gould, I turned sick with perplexity,—with fear, I may say,—at the prospect of being left with her. And then you seemed to be raised up for me, as it were on purpose, and can be with me without let or hindrance. None but those who have stood in need of it,” she added after a pause, “can know the full extent of God’s mercy.”

A glow, partly of pleasure partly of shame, came over Judith’s face as she listened. In a little corner of her inmost heart there had lurked a doubt whether it was all as straight as it ought to be with the young lady who had come there in so strange a manner—whether that plain gold ring on her finger had been a genuine wedding-ring, or but a false bauble placed there to deceive. The above reverential words of trust convinced Judith that the lady, whoever she might be, and whatever might be the mystery, was as honest as she was, and she took shame to herself for doubting her. No girl, living a life of sin, could so speak with unaffected simplicity of the goodness of God. At least, so felt Judith.

“I think, Judith, you must have been accustomed to attend on the sick?”

“Pretty well, ma'am. In my last place, where I lived four years, my mistress’s sister was bed-ridden, and I waited on her. She was a great sufferer. She died just three weeks ago, and they did not want me any more: that’s why I am changing places.”

“The mourning you wear is for her?”

“Yes it is, ma'am. Mr. Stephen Grey was her doctor, and never failed to come every day all those four years; so that I feel quite at home with him, if that is a proper expression for a servant to use when speaking of a gentleman.”

“What was the matter with her?”

“It was an inward complaint, causing her distressing pain. We were always trying fresh remedies to give her ease, but they did not do much good. I don’t fancy Mr. Stephen ever thought they would; but she would have them tried. Ah, ma'am! we talk about suffering, and pity it, when people are laid up far a week or two; but only think what it must be to lie by for years, and be in acute pain night and day!”

The tears had come into Judith’s eyes at the remembrance. Mrs. Crane looked at her. She had a large, full forehead, strongly marked. One, gifted with phrenological lore, would have