Whatever attractions the Castle of Indolence might have for Dr.

Harrison upon occasion, he never seemed so much as to look that way when he was at his work. Now, it made no difference that _he_ was no friend of Johnny's; he gave his attention thoroughly and with all his skill to the condition and wants of his little patient.

"Is there n.o.body to take care of him?" he asked in French, for Jonathan Fax with his square and by no means delicate and tender physiognomy stood at the other side of the bed heavily looking on.

"I shall, to-night," said Mr. Linden. "You may give me your directions."

The doctor proceeded to do this; but added, "He wants care and good nursing; and he'll suffer if he don't have it. He is a sick child."

"He shall have it," was all the answer; and when the doctor had finished his work for the time, Mr. Linden laid the child on the bed again, giving him a whispered promise to come back and stay with him all night; upon the strength of which promise Johnny fell into a deep sleep.

"Has the creature n.o.body to take care of him?" said the doctor as they went out.

"n.o.body at home."

"I shall be here a day or two, Linden--I'll see him early in the morning again."

Mr. Linden's next move through the biting air was to drive home. At the door of the sitting-room Faith met him.

"Endecott--how is he?"

"Less well than I expected to find him, dear Faith. I found Dr.

Harrison and took him there with me."

"And what did Dr. Harrison say of him?"

"That he wanted good care and nursing."

"And who is there to give it to him, Endy?" she said with a very saddened and earnest face.

"Why I shall give it to him to-night, my child, and we'll see about to-morrow. The doctor promised to go there again in the morning."

She stood a moment silent, and then said, "I'll go with you."

"Not to-night, dear--it is not needful. He will not want more than one watcher."

"But he might want something else--something to be done that a woman about the house might be wanted for--let me go too!--"

"No indeed! you must go to sleep. And he will hardly want anything but what I can give him to-night. I know well what your little hands are in a sick room," he said taking them in his own,--"I know well!--but they are not made of iron--nor are you."

Faith looked ill satisfied.

"Well, you'll not hinder my taking your place by him to-morrow, Endy?"

"If I can," Mr. Linden said, "I shall come home to breakfast, and then I may know what you had better do; but if I should be detained there, and so not get here till midday, wait for me--I should not like to have you go without seeing me again; and I can leave Reuben there for the morning if need be."

"Oh Endecott!--" she said with a heart full; but she said no more and ran away. She came back soon to call Mr. Linden to tea, which had waited; and after tea when he was about going she put a basket in his hand.

"I hope Mr. Fax has wood in his house, so that you can keep a fire,--but you are not likely to find anything else there. You'll want everything that is in this, Endy--please remember."

"I will not forget," he said, as he gave her his thanks. "But what did that exclamation mean, before tea?"

"What exclamation?--Oh--" said Faith, smiling somewhat but looking down, "I suppose it meant that I was disappointed."

"My dear little child--you must try not to feel disappointed, because I am quite sure you ought not to go; and that must content both you and me. So good night."--

Faith tried to be contented, but her little scholar lay on her heart.

And it lay on her heart too, that Mr. Linden would be watching all night and teaching all day. He did not know how much he had disappointed, for she had laid a fine plan to go by starlight in the morning to take his place and send him home for a little rest before breakfast and school. Faith studied only one book that night, and that was her Bible.

It was a night of steady watching,--broken by many other things, but not by sleep. There was constantly some little thing to do for the sick child,--ranging from giving him a drink of water, to giving him "talk,"

or rocking and--it might be--singing him to sleep. But the restless little requests never had to wait for their answer, and with the whole house sunk in stillness or sleep, Mr. Linden played the part of a most gentle and efficient nurse--and thought of Faith, and her disappointment. And so the night wore away, and the morning star came up, and then the red flushes of sunrise.

"Who turneth the night into day"--Mr. Linden thought, with a grave look from the window to the little face beside him--and then the words came,--

"In the morning, children, in the morning; We'll all rise together in the morning!"

It was very early indeed, earlier even than usual, when Faith came down and kindled her fire. And then leaving it to burn, she opened the curtains of the window and looked out into the starlight. It was long before the red flush of the morning; it was even before the time when Faith would have gone to relieve the guard in that sick room; her thoughts sped away to the distant watcher there and the sick child.

Faith could guess what sort of a watching it had been, and it was a comfort to think that Johnny had it. But then as she looked out into the clear still starlight, something brought up the question, what if Johnny should die?--It was overwhelming to Faith for a minute; her little scholar's loveliness had got fast hold of her heart; and she loved him for deep and far-back a.s.sociations too. She could not bear to think that it might be. Yet she asked herself if this was a reasonable feeling? Why should she be sorry--if it were so--that this little blossom of Heaven should have an early transplanting thither? Ah, the fragrance of such Heaven-flowers is too sweet to be missed, and Earth wants them. As Faith looked sadly out into the night, watched the eternal procession of bright stars, and heard the low sweep of the wind, the words came to her,--separated from their context and from everything else as it seemed,--"I, the Lord, do all these things." Her mind as instantly gave a glad a.s.sent and rested itself in them. Not seen by her or by mortal the place or fitting of any change or turn of earthly things, in the great plan,--every one such turn and change had its place, as sure as the post of each star in the sky--as true to its commission as that wind, which came from no one knew where to go no one knew whither. Faith looked and listened, and took the lesson deep down in her heart.

Mr. Linden's little basket had stood him well in stead that long night,--for Faith had said truth; nothing was for him in Mr. Fax's house. Mr. Fax was well enough satisfied that Johnny's teacher should take the trouble of nursing the child, had no idea that such trouble would necessarily involve much loss of sleep, and still further no notion of the fact that a watcher at night needs food as much as fire.

Fire Mr. Linden had, but he would have been worse off without the stores he found in his basket. In truth the supply generally was sufficient to have kept him from starving even if he had been obliged to go without his breakfast; but Dr. Harrison concerned himself about his little patient, and was better than Mr. Linden's hopes. He came, though in the cold short February morning, a good while before eight o'clock. He gave Mr. Linden a pleasant clasp of the hand; and then made his observations in silence.

"Is this one of your favourites?" he said at length.

A grave "yes."

"I am sorry for it."

Mr. Linden was silent at first, looking down at the child with a sort of expression the doctor had not often seen, and when he spoke it was without raising his eyes.

"Tell me more particularly."

"I don't know myself,"--said the doctor with a frankness startling in one of his profession; but Dr. Harrison's characteristic carelessness nowhere made itself more apparent than in his words and about what people might think of them.--"I don't say anything _certainly_--but I do not like appearances."

"What is the matter?"

"It's an indefinite sort of attack--all the worse for that!--the root of which is hid from me. All you can do is to watch and wait. Have you been here through the night?"

"Yes," Mr. Linden answered--and put the further question, "Do you think there is any danger of contagion?"

"O no!--the fever, what there is, comes from some inward cause--a complicated one, I judge. I can guess, and that's all. Are there no women about the house?"

"None that are good for much." And looking at his watch, Mr. Linden laid the child--who had fallen asleep again--out of his arms among the pillows, arranging them softly and dextrously as if he were used to the business.

"Reuben Taylor will stay with him for the present," he said as he turned to Dr. Harrison.

"I'll come again by and by," the doctor said. "Meanwhile all that can be done is to let him have this, as I told you."