Page:New Peterson magazine 1859 Vol. XXXV.pdf/221

 208 THE POOR COUSIN.

and preparing something to tempt the child’s delicate appetite, and thought how little the world knew of the beautiful life of patient goodness in that upper room, of the scenes of gentle kindness and unwearying devotedness daily enacted around the bedside of that little sufferer. Effie had long been hopelessly deformed, and her lower limbs were shrunken and wasted. Acute pain often kept her moaning hour after hour. Jane was for days the only one near her. In fact the child would seldom let Jane leave her, and no one seemed to think that anything oould be done for her; so, in time, all became accustomed to her illness, and it was deemed hardly worth while to inquire about her. Her mother was dead, and her father believed that in asking Dr. Gordon to come round sometimes and see her, he was performing all a parent’s duty, and could do no more. Carrie complained that a sick-room made her headache, and in consequence seldom honored it by her presence.

Harry was really affectionate and kind, and had often brought a smile to the pale, little face, that nothing else could. But with Jane’s arrival, there had come peace and happiness to the child’s heart, that had never before found place there. Jane felt that her mission on earth, though through sorrow and tears, was one of the deepest and purest joy.

That evening, the parlors resounded with laughter and song. Harry came up once or twice to see Effie, and, finding her quiet, went back again to the parlor. In the course of the evening, Dr. Gordon asked Carrie for a song, which she told him she had forgotten.

“Why, Jenny can sing that,” exclaimed Harry.

“Who is Jenny, if Tmay ask?” inquired the doctor.

“Oh! a cousin of ours, who nurses Effie.”

“A cousin! I did not know-”

“Certainly not,” interrupted Carrie, “few know Jane, because she will never come into the parlor.”

“She is very retiring indeed,” said Harry, significantly. “I will go and see if I cannot persuade her, for one night, to overcome this reluctance to society.”

Carrie bit her lip with mortification, and rapidly passed her fingers over the keys of the instrument, to preclude any further conversation.

In a few moments, a servant came in with a message from Harry, that the doctor would please walk up stairs.

“Horry was always so ridiculous about some things,” said Carrie, turning to a young man who leaned over her chair, and looked down languidly into her face.

A shaded lamp was burning in Effie’s room, and Jane was holding the child in her arms. Harry held one of the little cold hands, so sadly attenuated, and she looked affectionately up into his faoe, while a faint smile lighted up all her features.

“Jane,” said the child, softly, pressing the hand that was round her, “you have boen very good to me, and God will bless you. I am going home, and I will ask Him.”

The thin fingers relaxed their hold, they were growing weaker.

The doctor looked en silently, he felt that a greater physician than he was relieving Effie’s sufferings.

When the morning light stole into that little chamber, it fell on the face of a still, white figure, with hands crossed upon its breast, and whose better part “had gone to be an angel.”

A month after this. Dr. Gordon was shown into the sitting-room at Mr. Wyndham’s. Carrie was very beautiful in her mourning silk, for it set off her fair complexion to great advantage; Jane was quietly working, in her usual dress, for it had been thought too expensive for her to have black. “She was only Effie’s nurse,” said Harry, sarcastically.

“You ought to be ashamed, Harry, yon care more now for Jane than for your own sister.” replied Carrie, with tears of anger and mortification.

“It is well that some one does care for Jane,” he answered, taking his seat by the latter as ho spoke.

“You know, Harry,” she said, looking up quietly, os she always did, “that the dress makes no difference to me. Nothing could make her memory dearer.”

A smile of peace rested on her sallow features os she spoke, a gentle, patient smile, that seemed to light up the soul within, and made her almost beautiful. She looked a moment at Harry, and then her eyes went bock quietly to her work.

“If Miss Weston will oblige me,” said the doctor, “1 called to see if she would go with me to visit a sick woman near by. She is sadly in need of some cheering words, such as only one of her own sex can give her. She has every necessary comfort for the body, but is extremely depressed and nervous. My horse is waiting for me, and if you will get in the carriage and go with me, I will be greatly obliged.”

Jane was quickly ready for'the ride. Tim doctor handed her in, and stepping in after her, they were soon far from Carrie and All those little

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