sunday morning came, and the sun was fairly risen before either of the little girls was awake. rosa was the first to open her eyes: she would willingly have taken another nap, but the first stanza of a morning hymn occurred to her mind, and she remembered her resolution to overcome her laziness.
as she repeated—
"awake, my soul, and with the sun
thy daily course of duty run,
shake off dull sloth, and early rise
to pay thy morning sacrifice,"
she got up very carefully that she might not rouse her sister. "i will let the child sleep a little longer," she said to herself, "for she is so pale, i don't believe she is quite well."
it was a beautiful morning: the fields and orchards were bright with the sunshine, and the birds seemed singing even more happily than usual. as soon as rosa had dressed herself, and finished her usual devotions, she went down stairs to enjoy the fresh air. as she walked in the garden, the conversation she had had with lucy the evening before passed through her mind. what her uncle had said to her about being useful to her own family seemed about to be realized. "poor little lucy," she thought: "may god help me to lead the dear child in the right path."
harty heard rosa's footsteps in the garden, and was soon at her side. "here, brother, is something for your museum," was her greeting, and she pointed to a chrysalis which hung on a low rose-twig by the path. "is it not beautiful? just look at the silver spots!"
"it is a capital specimen," answered harty, as he carefully broke the little branch to which it was fastened: "i wonder what kind of a butterfly it will be. rosa!" he added, "i did not think you would like such things as these."
"not like the beautiful things god has made!" exclaimed rosa. "why, i love to look at every little object in nature, and think that our heavenly father planned it and made it so perfect. it seems easy to believe that he notices all our little joys and troubles, when wo see that even the smallest insect is made with such care."
as rosa spoke, her eyes sparkled and she looked around her, as if every object which was in sight was a proof to her of the love of the kind creator. harty made no answer, but looked thoughtfully at the chrysalis as they entered the house together.
the breakfast-bell was ringing, and they met lucy in the hall. she glanced slyly towards her sister, remembering the conversation of the evening before. rosa kissed her cordially, and, hand in hand, they went to the table.
"perhaps miss rosa had bettor pour out coffee," said mrs. maxwell stiffly to the doctor, as the children came in.
"would you like it, rosa?" asked her father.
rosa saw that mrs. maxwell looked displeased, and, in a moment, it passed through her mind, that perhaps she would not like to give up the place she had held so long to one so young as herself, and she quickly said,—
"may i put that off a little longer, father? i am afraid i could not suit you as well as mrs. maxwell does; she has made tea for you a great while."
"a long time, dear child," said the doctor; and his thoughts went back to the days when his delicate wife sat opposite him, her sweet face growing paler each morning, until at last her weak hands could no longer do their office, and mrs. maxwell took her place.
rosa knew of what her father must be thinking, and she did not speak for several minutes. at length she said, "is old mr. packard any better to-day, father?"
"i have not seen him yet," was the reply. "i shall have to make a round of visits this morning," continued the doctor, "so i shall not have the pleasure of taking my tall daughter to church to-day: i leave that to harty."
harty looked very proud at the idea of waiting on his sister. little lucy listened in vain to hear something said about her forming one of the party. she resolved, at least, to get ready, and perhaps no one would object to her going.
when they rose from the breakfast-table, rosa went to her room, thinking she should have a quiet hour to herself before it was time to prepare for church; but lucy and harty followed her. the rules had been very strict at mr. gillette's: the young ladies seldom, visited each other in their bed-rooms, and then never entered without knocking.
the freedom with which her sister went in and out of her apartment was already an annoyance to rosa, and her first impulse was to send them away, that she might read her bible alone, as she had intended. then her confirmation vow came to her remembrance. she had promised "to love her neighbour as herself, to do unto others as she would they should do unto her." would she like to be sent away from a person she loved? and was it not a part of her duty to make those around her happy? her first impulse was conquered, and she turned cheerfully to the children, who felt uncomfortable for a moment, they hardly knew why, and said, "come, let us sit here by the window; i am going to read, and you shall listen to me, if you please."
they looked delighted. lucy dropped upon a low footstool by her sister's side, and harty stood watching eagerly to see what was to be the chosen book. he seemed disappointed when rosa took up her little bible, and shook his head when she asked him if he would not take the vacant chair beside her.
she began to read in the fifth chapter of mark, "and, behold, there cometh one of the rulers of the synagogue, jairus by name; and when he saw him [jesus], he fell at his feet, and besought him greatly, saying, my little daughter lieth at the point of death: i pray thee, come and lay thy hands on her, that she may be healed; and she shall live."
rosa had taken great pains to learn to read properly and pleasantly, for her uncle had told her that to be an agreeable reader was one way of being useful. now her voice was sweet and natural, and she seemed herself so interested, that lucy caught her spirit even before the "little daughter" was mentioned; but at these words her attention was fixed, and she listened eagerly to hear what was to follow.
harty, meanwhile, stood rolling the corner of the neat white curtain in his hands, which were not particularly clean, and looking undecidedly about him. when rosa finished the sentence, he hurried from the room, saying, "i'm going to see my chickens."
she glanced at the soiled curtain and then at harty as he closed the door: for a moment she looked fretted, but it was only a moment; a sweet smile took the place of the half-formed frown, and she went on with the reading.
lucy had heard the story before of the raising of the ruler's daughter, but now it seemed quite new to her, and her eyes were bright with wonder and pleasure, as her sister closed the book.
"rosa," she said, "i should like to have been that little girl!"
"why?" said rosa,
"because—because," answered lucy—"because she must have been so glad to be alive again. i wonder what she said when they told her all that had happened."
"i hope she thanked the land saviour, and learned to love him very dearly."
"how sorry she must have been that the saviour could not stay and live at her home, and take care of her always," said lucy.
"lucy," said rosa, "the same thing may happen to you as to that little girl; but after christ has said to you, arise, you may live with him always."
lucy looked half-frightened, and answered, "i don't understand you. i should have to die first;" and she shuddered at the thought.
"no; you may have christ with you always, without dying, but you cannot see him. he will take care of you, and you can speak to him, and he will do what you ask him. if you remember that he loves you and is ever at your side, when you come to die it will seem like opening your eyes to see the kind friend who has been so long with you."
lucy's eyes filled with tears, and in her heart she wished that she loved the saviour as rosa did. "i will try and remember that he is with me," she said to herself; and for the first time the idea was pleasant to her. before she had only thought of god as seeing her when she was doing wrong, and it had always been a very painful thought to her.
many minutes had passed when lucy started up, saying, "there goes the church bell; it is time to get ready."
rosa and lucy were quite ready, when harty came running into the room, his hair in its usual tumbled state, and his coat dusty and torn. "oh! i have had such a chase," he said: "one of my 'bantys' got out, and i had to jump over the fence and chase him all over the orchard before i could catch him. and see here, where i tore my coat putting him back in the coop. why! you are all ready: is it church-time?"
"yes, indeed," answered lucy; "and i hate to be late, people all look at you so."
"i hate to be late, too," said harty; "i do like to watch the people come in."
"harty! harty!" interrupted rosa; "don't talk so. make haste and get ready."
"never mind me," said harty; "you walk on, and i can catch up with you: it won't take me but a minute to change my coat—these trowsers will do."
"but, harty, you will have to brush your hair and your shoes, and wash yourself. it would not be respectful to the place where you are going to enter in such a plight."
"pshaw!" said harty, angrily; "i will not go at all; you can find your way, with little lucy to open the door for you."
rosa was tempted to leave him, for she, too, disliked to be late at church, but not for either of the reasons that had been mentioned. she liked to be in her seat before the service commenced, that she might have time to collect her thoughts, and be ready to join with the congregation in the solemn worship of god.
"my brother ought not to stay at home," she thought: "it will be better to wait for him, even if we are late." "come, harty," said she, encouragingly, "we will help you, and you will soon be ready."
lucy was dispatched to the kitchen for the shoes that had been cleaned, for harty's cap, pocket-hankerchief, another clean collar, &c.; in short, she had so many things to run for, that she stopped on the landing, so weary that she was glad to take breath. there mrs. maxwell met her, and said, "take off those things, lucy vale; you ought not to think of going to church after the wetting you got yesterday. your father didn't say you might go; i noticed it this morning."
"but i am quite well," pleaded lucy. "i think he would let me go, if he were at home."
"but he is not at home. at noon you can ask him. go now and undress as fast as you can." without another word mrs. maxwell passed down stairs.
lucy dropped down upon the lowest stop, and began to cry bitterly.
"ready at last!" shouted harty: "now lucy, my prayer book."
but no lucy came. rosa and harty came towards her, and wore astonished to see her face wot with tears.
"what is the matter?" asked rosa: "have you hurt yourself?"
"no!" sobbed lucy; "but mrs. maxwell says i must not go to church."
"pooh! is that all?" said harty; "why, you are not always so fond of church-going!"
this was true, for lucy often stayed away from church when mrs. maxwell did not oblige her to go; but on this particular morning she wanted to go with her sister, whom she was beginning to love very dearly.
"but why mustn't you go?" asked rosa.
"because i got in the water yesterday, and mrs. maxwell says i am not well."
"never mind, dear," said rosa, "perhaps father will let you go out this afternoon. don't cry any more; we shall not be gone long. good-bye."
harty was rather glad that lucy could not go; he never liked to take lucy anywhere with him. perhaps he thought it made him appear more like a mere boy to have his little sister by his side, or that she was not fit to associate with so wise a gentleman as himself.
if his sister rosa had felt as ungenerously and unkindly to those younger than herself, she would have at least laughingly refused the arm which he offered her as they went down the walk. but she took the arm, although she had to stoop a little in doing so, and talked with her brother as if he really were the man he was trying to appear.
as harty was thus honoured, he looked back triumphantly at poor lucy, who was still watching them. a pang of envy shot through the heart of the little girl. julia staples's evil words came to her mind; the bad seed was springing up. "rosa and harty will always be together; they won't care for me," she thought. but good seed had been sown by rosa, and it, too, now sprang up. "god loves me," thought the little girl; "if i try to please him i shall be happy."
she rose and wont into her own pretty room: there she put everything carefully in its proper place, and felt a new pleasure in doing so; for it was her duty.
