The day after the ball, Lina complained of headache and great weariness. At first no one paid much attention to her. It was thought to be only the natural result of overmuch dancing the previous night, and expected it to pass over soon. But the next day alarming symptoms appeared which were greatly to be feared. She had imprudently exposed herself to the cold night air, and had developed a severe case of pneumonia. At once the very best physicians in the city were called, but in spite of the utmost care given the patient, the disease increased with rapid strides. Poor Anna, almost overcome with her sorrow, would not leave her sister’s bedside, and during the first few days, did everything in her power to divert the thoughts of the patient, but finally gave up, seeing her efforts were in vain.
The unhappy mother did not know how to comfort her child. She brought all that money could buy to quiet the young girl’s unrest, but was also unsuccessful in all her attempts. Nothing lessened that terror of heart.
Mrs. C., overcome with her sorrow, went to her room, bemoaning herself as the victim of a cruel fate.
In this way the dark days passed between fear and hope, until finally the first doubtful looks of the physician caused them to give up the last weak spark of hope they had; and amid the bitter tears of those surrounding the sick-bed, they made known to the dying girl her inevitable death. Mute despair was pictured in her pale face. O, if at this moment she could have had the peace and joy of a true child of God, she would have given all her possessions. But it cannot be had that way.
One morning as the patient’s unsettled glances were followed around the room, by her fond but anxious sister, their eyes lit upon a beautiful bound book, which occupied the last place in the bookcase. It was the Bible—Emilie’s gift. As possessed with a new thought, she arose, but just at that moment her mother stepped into the room, and Anna whispered to her:
“Mother, shall we not invite Cousin Emilie to come? I believe she could be of benefit to Lina.”
Lina heard and understood the words, forcing herself up, cried with a penetrating voice: “No, no. I do not wish to see her.”
The next day was her last.
Surely twenty times at least, Emilie had come to inquire about the dying girl. Up to this time she had quietly hoped to receive permission to speak to her cousin, but neither by the sick one, nor by any of the others, was her wish granted. During the first few days of Lina’s sickness, Emilie had even dared to write a few lines to her, but she, after having read it, crushed the letter in her hand, much offended that anyone should have attempted to speak to her about her soul. So every avenue seemed cut off, and every effort of love rejected. As she came today, she found the door of the sickroom half open. She took courage and stepped in, without announcement. Those who waited upon her were so overcome with grief and exhaustion that they did not seek to prevent her. Lina lay there in a rigid stupor.
The mother had locked herself into her room. Anna beckoned her cousin to take a seat at the bedside. Suddenly Lina opened her eyes wide and murmured:
“O, death! I feel—I must die!”
A long pause followed. Then she murmured again:
“O, it is horrible to die! Horrible!”
“Look to Jesus!” cried Emilie in tones of heartfelt sympathy. “He alone can help you in this serious hour.”
The eyes of the dying girl strayed restlessly through the room, and then fixed themselves with a rigid look upon the speaker.
“No, no!” she cried in painful tones.
“The Bible says, that—”
“No, no! don’t talk to me about that book!”
“Poor child! The Bible is the Word of God, and is rich in comfort.”
“Not for me, no—not for me!”
“Why not for you?”
“Because I despised it.”
“No—no—it is too late!”
“O, no! There is pardon in the eleventh hour, Look to Jesus, dear Lina! Go to Him. He wants to save you and forgive all your sins. He died for sinners on the cross.”
“No, no, I cannot. It is too late. I don’t want to hear any more about it. Go away and leave me alone!”
While the unhappy girl uttered these words, there was seen on her pale face a terrifying look of despair. Sadly Emilie left the room. Soon after, the patient again lost consciousness and regained it no more. Her dreadful fear of death furnished an awful picture of the end of a life given up to the pleasures of this poor world.
But now, dear young reader, after having read this story, I would plead with you not to put off your soul’s salvation as Lina did. She thought she would wait until she was on a sickbed; she did wait, and we have seen her sad end.