VIII.
_BESSIE'S LITTLE SERMON._
One afternoon when the children had gone over to the hotel to seegrandmamma, a basket of fine fruit came, from Riverside. They had notbeen to the colonel's room for two or three days, for he had beensuffering very much, and was not able to see any one. When the fruitcame grandmamma put some on a plate, and sent Bessie with it to thecolonel's door, but told her that she must not go in.
Bessie went to the door, and, putting her plate down on the hall floor,knocked very gently. Mrs. Rush came and opened the door, and, takingup her plate again, Bessie handed it to her, gave her grandmamma'smessage, and was going away, when she heard the colonel's voice. "Isthat my pet?" he said.
"Yes, sir; and I love you very much, and I am so sorry for you; butgrandmamma said I must not come in."
"But I want to see you," said the colonel.
"You can come in, darling," said Mrs. Rush; "he is better thisafternoon, and would like to see you."
"But I better mind grandma first; bettern't I?" said Bessie. "I'll yunand ask her, and if she'll let me, I can come back."
Mrs. Rush smiled, and said, "Very well;" and the obedient little girlran to ask her grandmamma's permission.
Grandmamma said, "Certainly, if the colonel wanted her."
"Didn't he invite me?" said Maggie, with rather a long face.
"No," said Bessie. "Would you yather I would not go? I'll stay withyou, if you want me."
"I guess you had better go, if he wants you," said Maggie; "but don'tstay very long, Bessie; it's very sorrowful without you."
"Poor Maggie," said Walter, who was standing by at the time; "it isvery cruel in the colonel not to ask you. Never mind, you shall comeand take care of me when I lose my foot."
"Oh, no, it's me you ought to call cruel," said Maggie, in a verydoleful voice; "you know I am such a fidget, Walter, and I can't helpit. The other day the colonel was so sick, and I meant to be so quiet,and yet I did two shocking things."
"What did you do?" asked Walter.
"I knocked over a chair, and I slammed the door; and so mamma said Imust not go again till he was better."
"But what do you do without Bessie, when she goes?" said Walter; "Ithought you two could not live apart."
"We can't," said Maggie; "but then, you see, the colonel is a sick,lame soldier, with a foot cut off and a hole in his side; so, if hewants Bessie, I ought to make a sacrifice of myself and let her go."
The boys laughed; but Tom said, "That is right, little woman, do allyou can for the soldiers; they have sacrificed enough for us." AndBessie kissed her sister and ran back to the colonel's room.
"Why, is he better?" she asked, as Mrs. Rush lifted her up to kiss him."I think he looks very worse. Oh, how big his eyes are!"
The colonel laughed. "I am like the wolf in Red Riding-Hood; am I not,Bessie?" he said.
"No," she answered, "not a bit; you are just like my own dear soldier,only I wish you did not look so white."
"I think he will look better to-morrow, Bessie," said Mrs. Rush. "Hehas suffered terribly the last two days; but he is easier now, thoughhe is very tired and weak, so we must not talk much to him."
"I wont talk a word, only if he speaks to me," said Bessie; and shebrought a footstool and sat down by the side of the sofa. The colonelheld out his hand to her, and she put her own little one in it andsat perfectly quiet. He lay looking at her, with a smile, for a fewminutes, but presently his eyes closed, and Bessie thought he wasasleep. He looked more ill when his eyes were shut than when theywere open; his face was so very, very pale, and his black hair andbeard made it look whiter still. Mrs. Rush sat by the sofa fanning herhusband, while the little girl watched him with earnest, loving eyes.
At last she whispered, "If he dies, he'll go to heaven, 'cause he's sovery brave and good; wont he?"
Mrs. Rush did not speak, but Bessie did not need any answer. She wasquite sure in her own mind; for she never imagined that this bravesoldier did not love his Saviour. "He could not be so brave and good ifhe did not love Jesus very much," she said, looking up at Mrs. Rush.She could not see the lady's face very plainly, for she was bendingit down almost close to the pillows. Bessie went on very softly andgravely: "I suppose that's the yeason he's so patient too. Papa sayshe never saw any one so patient; and I guess he's like lame Jemmy.Jemmy said he couldn't help being patient when he thought how much hisSaviour suffered for him, and I guess the colonel is just like him;and he was so brave in the battles, 'cause he knew Jesus loved him andwould take him to heaven if he was killed. He would have been afraid,if he didn't know that. And I suppose when he was hurt in that battleand lay on the ground all night, and his own soldiers didn't know wherehe was, but thought the Sepoys had him, he thought about Jesus and hisFather in heaven all the time, and yemembered how Jesus died for him,and kept saying his prayers to them; and so they took care of him, andlet his own soldiers come and find him. Oh, I know he must love Jesusvery much. And don't you think Jesus took such care of him so he couldlove him more yet?" Mrs. Rush's face was quite down on her husband'spillows now, and Bessie looked back at him. He had turned his head,and she could not see his face either, but she felt the hand, in whichher own was lying, moving a little uneasily.
"I'm 'fraid I esturb him," she said; "I mustn't whisper any more."
She kissed his hand very gently, and laid her head on the sofa besideit. The room was rather dark, and very still, and in a few momentsshe was fast asleep. After a while the colonel turned his head again,opened his eyes and looked at her. Then Mrs. Rush lifted up her face.
"Were you asleep, Horace?" she asked.
"No," he said, rather crossly, and moving his head impatiently; "I wishyou would take her away."
Mrs. Rush was glad that Bessie did not hear him; she knew that thiswould have grieved her. She lifted the little darling in her arms, andcarried her across the floor to her grandmamma's room. Mrs. Stantonherself opened the door; there was no one else in the room.
"This precious child is asleep," said Mrs. Rush, in a low voice. "ShallI leave her with you?"
Mrs. Stanton asked her to lay Bessie on the bed. She did so, and thenbent over her for a moment, and when she raised her head, Mrs. Stantonsaw how very pale and sad her sweet face was.
"What is it, my child?" asked the kind old lady, taking her hand. Mrs.Rush burst into tears.
"Is your husband worse? Do you think him in danger?"
"Not for this life, but for that which is to come," sobbed Mrs. Rush,laying her head on Mrs. Stanton's shoulder.
"My poor child! and is it so?" said grandmamma.
"Yes, yes, and he will not hear a word on the subject; he has forbiddenme to mention it to him. And if he would let me, I do not know how toteach him. I am only a beginner myself. These things are all so newto me; for it was not until I feared that I was to lose him that Ifelt my own need of more than human strength to uphold me. Bessie, dearlittle unconscious preacher, has just said more in his hearing than hehas allowed me to say for months. God, in his mercy, grant that herinnocent words may touch his heart. Dear Mrs. Stanton, pray for him andfor me."
Mrs. Stanton tried to comfort her, and then the old lady and the youngone knelt down together, while little Bessie slept on, knowing nothingof the hopes and fears and sorrows of those who prayed beside her.