I was angry at what she said."
Mrs. Prescott and Mrs. Keith were strolling in from the garden, chatting pleasantly of their domestic affairs, when an infant's screams were heard coming from a back room.
"There, my baby is awake and calling for his mother," said Mrs. Prescott. "Please excuse me a minute. Just step into the parlor again and talk with Effie."
Mrs. Keith complied and found Effie alone, lying back in her chair, trembling, flushed and tearful.
"My poor child! are you suffering very much?" she asked, bending over her and smoothing her hair with a caressing motion.
"No, ma'am, I'm not worse—only—it was something that Damaris said; and that I didn't take it quite as I ought.
"Oh, Mrs. Keith, do you think God sends sickness to punish us for our sins? and that my health is poor because I'm more wicked than anybody who is well?"
"Certainly not. I have excellent health as a general thing, while many an eminent saint has been a great sufferer.
"We know that sin brought disease and death into the world and that God sometimes sends afflictions as chastisements; but to his own people it is in love and for their growth in grace.
"'As many as I love, I rebuke and chasten; be zealous therefore and repent.' 'Whom the Lord loveth he chasteneth, and scourgeth every son whom he receiveth. If ye endure chastening, God dealeth with you as with sons.'
"Remembering that, would you wish to escape it?"
"Oh no, no! But oh, it makes the burden so much heavier to think that it is because He is angry with me!"
"It is because he loves you. Do not look at it as punishment, but as discipline; as the cutting and carving which are necessary to bring out the beautiful statue from the shapeless block of marble, or to change the diamond in the rough to the brilliant sparkling gem.
"As to the idea that the Christian bears any part of the penalty of his sins—atoning for them by his own suffering, or his works, or in any other way, either in this life or the next,—it is totally unscriptural. 'For Christ is the end of the law for righteousness to every one that believeth.'"
"O, thank you, so much, so very much!" she exclaimed, looking up gratefully. "What wonderful love His was, and who would not be willing to bear any suffering to be made like unto Him?"
"That is unquestionably a Christian spirit," said Mrs. Keith; "none but those who have felt the burden of sin and learned to hunger and thirst after righteousness know that ardent desire for conformity to His image."
"You make my heart glad!" cried the girl. "Damaris just told me there was no Christian spirit about me; and I'm often afraid there isn't; yet I do love Jesus and desire His love more than anything else. I want to do and suffer all His holy will!"
Little Mary Chetwood, a sweet child of six, was the only daughter except Claudina, and coming after some half dozen boys, naturally became, from the first, a great pet and darling, made much of by parents, sister and brothers.
Yet she was not a spoiled child; she had been taught obedience, religiously trained, and not indulged to her hurt.
Love and wise indulgence do no harm, but quite the contrary; while harshness, a dearth of affection, and undue severity have ruined many a one for time and eternity.
Mrs. Keith found the Chetwoods a distressed household; for though the little girl had been but two days ill, such was the violence of the attack that it was already apparent that there was small hope of recovery.
"This is kind," whispered Mrs. Chetwood, pressing her friend's hand, while tears coursed down her cheeks. "The darling won't be tended by any body but mother, father or sister, but your very presence is a comfort."
"I should have been here sooner, but did not know of her illness till this afternoon," Mrs. Keith responded in the same subdued key. "If I can be of any use, I will take off my bonnet and stay; it is perfectly convenient."
The offer was gratefully accepted, a note dispatched to Mildred, entrusting the children at home to her care till such time as her mother could be of no more service at the squire's, and Mrs. Keith's gentle ministries in the sick room began.
Her quiet movements, her thoughtfulness, quick comprehension and fertility of resource, made her invaluable at such a time.
The end came sooner than was expected; day was just breaking when, with her head on the bosom of her who gave her birth, the little one gently breathed her last.
In all the trying scenes that followed, Mr. and Mrs. Keith and Mildred were most kind, helpful and sympathizing, and the ties of Christian friendship were thus more closely drawn than ever between the two families.
The bereaved family found their home sadly desolated, but there was no murmuring against the Hand that dealt the blow; the language of their hearts was, "The Lord gave, and the Lord hath taken away; blessed be the name of the Lord."
Chapter Twenty-second.
"Hail! independence, hail! heaven's next best gift,
To that of life, and an immortal soul."
—Thomson.
"There is strength,
Deep bedded in our hearts, of which we reck
But little till the shafts of heaven have pierc'd
Its fragile dwelling. Must not earth be rent
Before her gems are found?"
—Mrs. Hemans.
"Boom!"
The loud voice of the cannon rent the air with sudden shock just as eager waiting eyes caught the first glimpse of the sun's bright disc peeping above the eastern horizon.
The sound broke suddenly in upon many a dream, woke many a sleeper.
"Independence day! the glorious Fourth, the nation's birthday," shouted Cyril, giving Don a kick, then springing out of bed and hurrying on his clothes.
"Oh! oh! Fourth of July!" echoed Don, following suit. "I'm so glad, 'cause now we can fire our crackers."
Their clatter and another shot roused Fan and Annis who joined in the rejoicing, the latter calling loudly for mother or Milly to come and dress her.
"No more hope of sleep," yawned Mr. Keith, in the next room; "so we may as well get up."
"Yes," returned his wife, "I wish you would, and watch over the children;—see that they don't burn their fingers or set things on fire.
"Yes, Annis, mother's coming."
Breakfast was prepared amid the almost constant firing of crackers and childish shouts of exultation, near at hand, and the occasional booming of the more distant cannon.
The young folks were
