Chapter 5
Hurrah! mother and Danny, there’s that car stopped out here again and that little girl is coming in with a man. I must get my hands washed,” and off bounded Charlie to the pump.
Mrs. Marks paused in her work to smooth the pillow on which. Daniel’s face was resting, and to push back her own tresses which had fallen a little. By that time a slow and feeble step was heard approaching the house, together with the taps of a cane and the patter of little feet. Soon the round cheeks of the pretty child appeared, and the bright eager eyes were searching for the sick boy, they espied him in his little bed, and she cried out, “O, father there he is! he’s lying down; come in, come in.”
“Be polite my little girl,” said a voice very gravely and gently. “You do not notice the lady, nor tell her who your father is.”
“This is Mr. Irving, my father,” said Lilly, smoothing her smiles in her face; “he’s come to see your sick boy, may he?”
“To be sure, dear,” replied Mrs. Marks with her pleasant look, and gae him a chair.
He was a noble and handsome looking man. Now that disease had touched it with its palor and more thoughtful tints, his face seemed very calm and subdued. The hair was brushed back from his high forehead, his eyes large and very bright and somewhat sunken, while occasionally his chest labored for breath.
“My dear madam,” he said kindly, “my Lilly here would not let me rest till I promised to see you. For days I put her off, saying I was not well enough; but she has been so persistent, that at last, thinking I might not live to grant her many more requests, I complied, and here I am.”
Meanwhile Miss Lilly had diligently taken off her little bonnet, possessed heelf of a stool, and carried it near the couch of the sick child, where she now sat. her health-beaming face making a vivid contrast to the deathly countenance of the little boy.
“Has your child never been well?” he asked.
“Never, sir, he was sickly at his birth, and has never walked a step in his life.”
“My Lilly seemed much impressed with the fact that he is so cheerful and happy.”
“He is both, sir,” was the reply, and he suffers much pain, and that constantly. The only complaint I have ever heard him utter,” she said softly, “was yesterday when his agony was so severe. His eyes were full of tears and he exclaimed,
‘O mother, I do wish Jesus would take me now.’”
The dark eyes of the stranger grew moist as he listened, then he said,
“He is indeed comforted, if he has any supporting hope. Dark days and cheerless nights are mine,” his voice-faltered.
“Perhaps, sir,” said Mrs. Marks in her own quiet way, “perhaps you have not learned that it is good to suffer, and that God often times leads us to Himself through thorny roads.”
“But, madam, is He good in giving to that little creature anguish and pain all his life? That child never rebelled against Him, why lead him through this this fearful thorny road?’
“You can talk with him yourself, sir, and judge,” said she. “He is my teacher and comforter in a great many things: and the day will be a dark one when he goes away from me.”
ML 07/20/1941