CHAPTER XIX.
Several years had passed, bringing to the members of our little familyscarce any changes except such as time brings to the young and growingeverywhere. Ethel was more mature in looks and manners, Harry becomingquite manly in appearance, and in character also, the two younger girlswere budding into lovely womanhood, Nannette being especially winsome inmanner. They were all strongly attached to each other and made a veryharmonious and happy little household.
But a change came: Nan took cold in the spring, and all through thesummer was feeble and more or less ailing.
The others were troubled and anxious about her, but she was almostalways cheerful, said there was not much the matter, she only feltlanguid and weak, but hoped to be strong and have more energy when thecool autumn weather came. But alas! instead, her feebleness increasedtill at last she was forced to take to her bed. Then Ethel, greatlyalarmed, at once let her uncles know, and without delay the best medicaladvice was furnished and everything done that loving care and solicitudecould do to improve her condition. She grew a little better for a time,so that she was able to be about the house again, but never went outexcept when one of her uncles or cousins took her for a drive as theysometimes did.
They were very kind and affectionate, coming often to see her, even whenthe weather was such that she could not be taken out. Dorothy wasfrequently there too, sometimes in the capacity of nurse, when businessor domestic cares kept Nannette's sisters away from the sick room, andshowing herself very kind, thoughtful, and skilful.
Miss Seldon did likewise, evidently feeling deep interest in the younginvalid; bringing dainties to tempt the failing appetite, andinteresting books to make the time pass pleasantly.
Their pastor came too, and by his sympathy and kindness endeared himselfgreatly to the little family. He succeeded at length in so winning Nan'slove and confidence that she became very open and communicative withhim; talking freely of her thoughts, feelings, and desires, her hopesand aspirations; and very gently and tenderly he, after a time, told herthat her physicians thought it very unlikely she would ever be restoredto health in this world, but was slowly and surely nearing that blessedland where the inhabitants shall never say "I am sick"; the land wherepain and sickness, death, sin, and sorrow are unknown.
It was a new idea to Nannette, for she had looked confidently forward tofinal restoration to health, and for some moments she seemed stunnedwith surprise and affright.
"Do not be afraid, dear child," said the minister in tones tremulouswith emotion; "remember those sweet words of the psalmist, 'Yea, thoughI walk through the valley of the shadow of death I will fear no evil;for Thou art with me; Thy rod and Thy staff they comfort me.' Trust inJesus--Jesus only--and He will be with you, and carry you safely throughthe valley, and over the river of death, to the beautiful Celestialcity, where you will dwell with Him in such bliss as eye hath not seennor ear heard, nor hath it entered into the heart of man to conceive."
"And where my dear father and mother are," she said softly, the bigtears coursing down her cheeks. "Oh, I shall not be sorry to go! Howgood; oh, how good the Lord is to let me go there so soon!"
"Yes, dear child. Is it because He sees any good in you, do you think?"
"No, sir; oh, no, there isn't any, not any of my own righteousness: butI think, I believe, oh, I know that He has covered me with the beautifulrobe of His perfect righteousness, so that when God looks upon me Hewill see only that and none of the filthy rags of my own. And He willwash away in His precious blood all my sins, all the evil that is in me,and make me fit for a home in that blessed land. With Jesus and likehim! Oh, how happy I shall be!" Then after a moment's pause, "Do mybrother and sisters know?" she asked.
"I think not," he said, "though doubtless they will not be greatlysurprised to learn the truth in regard to your serious condition."
"Then tell them; please tell them," she entreated; "Ethel and Blanche atleast, and perhaps they will tell Harry when he comes home from thestore to-night."
Just then footsteps were heard on the stairs, the door opened, andDorothy entered.
"How do you do, sir?" she said, holding out her hand to the minister,then turning toward Nannette, "Ah, little coz, you are better, I think!Your cheeks are like roses and your eyes are very bright. What is it,dear?" as the beautiful eyes filled with tears, "are you in pain?" andshe bent over her, softly caressing her hair and cheek.
The minister had slipped away unobserved. Nannette put an arm roundDorothy and drew her down closer. "I--I know it now," she panted. "He hastold me, and--and oh, I--I'm afraid Ethel's heart will break, for--for sheloves me so dearly!"
"What is it, dear? You haven't told me yet," returned Dorothy in halftremulous tones. "You--you are not worse?"
"I shall never be any better," faltered Nannette; "never till--till Ireach that land where the inhabitants shall not say 'I am sick.'"
"O Nan, you don't know! I--I think you are getting better," Dorothyreturned, tears streaming from her eyes. "And how could we ever dowithout you? I have grown to love you very, very dearly since I havebeen with you so much, seeing how dear and good and patient you are inall your pain and weakness. Cheer up, for I do think you will bestronger when the warm weather comes."
But Nannette shook her head. "No," she said, "the doctors say I will notbe here long; that I am going home to heaven to be with Jesus and thedear father and mother who went so long ago. O Dorothy, though the newswas like a shock at first, I am very glad now, if--if only I did not haveto leave Ethel and Blanche behind; Harry too, and you and my uncles andcousins. Oh, how sweet it would be if we could only all go together!"
"O Nan," cried Dorothy, weeping, "I can't help hoping the doctors aremistaken; you know they sometimes are, and perhaps you will get wellyet. I'll tell Uncle George, and perhaps he will take you south toFlorida or the West Indies. I think it would do him good to go himself,for he has a cough of late."
"You are very kind, Dorothy," Nan said with a grateful look up into hereyes, "and so are my uncles. I believe they would do anything in theirpower to save my life; but I fear it is too late, and if I am to die I'drather die here at home with all the dear ones about me."
"But, O Nan, we can't go with you!" exclaimed a voice half choked withgrief; "and how can we let you go alone!" for Ethel had come inunperceived and dropped on her knees close by the bedside. "Oh, mydarling, darling little sister, what can I ever do without you? You havebeen my special charge almost ever since you were born. I don't know howI can live if you are taken from me!"
"You know the others will need you, dear," said Nan, clinging about herneck, "and papa and mamma and I will be waiting for you all on the otherside of the river; and oh, what a happy time it will be when we are allthere together!"
"But oh, darling, it seems so long to wait!" groaned Ethel, holding herclose, and weeping as if her heart would break; "so long to live withoutyou!"
"Maybe it won't be so long; perhaps He will soon let you follow me."
"When her work for Him on earth is done," said Dorothy, weeping withthem. "But, Ethel, dear, you know He never sends a burden without thestrength to bear it. Don't forget the sweet promise, 'As thy days, soshall thy strength be,' or the sweet assurance, 'We know that all thingswork together for good to them that love God.'"
"Oh, it is so easy to forget!" sighed Ethel. "I am glad you reminded me.I have need to pray as the disciples did, 'Lord, increase our faith.'"
A moment's silence, while the sisters, closely clasped in each other'sarms, mingled their tears together, then Ethel asked, low andtremulously, "Nan, dear, you are not afraid?"
"No, sister, dear, for though you can't go with me, Jesus has said thatHe will. Don't you remember those lovely texts in Isaiah, 'But now thussaith the Lord that created thee, O Jacob, and he that formed thee, OIsrael, Fear not: for I have redeemed thee, I have called thee by thyname; thou art mine. When thou passest through the waters, I will bewith thee; and through the rivers, they shall not overflow thee: whenthou walkest t
hrough the fire, thou shalt not be burned; neither shallthe flame kindle upon thee.' I was reading those verses only thismorning, and they seemed so sweet."
"They are for us both," sobbed Ethel; "for when I think of parting withyou, my darling little sister, doing without you all the rest of mylife--the waters seem very, very deep, the floods overflow me. Oh, whatshould I do if I had not Jesus to cling to?"
"'And a man shall be as a hiding place from the wind, and a covert fromthe tempest,'" repeated Nan in low, tender tones; "'as rivers of waterin a dry place, as the shadow of a great rock in a weary land.' I knowit means Jesus, and if we cling close to him he will be all that to us."
"Yes; oh, yes! and you are clinging to him, Nan, dear?"
"Yes; oh, yes! I have no other refuge; and what other need anyone want?for 'He is able to save them to the uttermost that come unto God by Him,seeing He ever liveth to make intercession for them.' You remember thatJesus said, 'And this is the will of Him that sent me, that everyonewhich seeth the Son and believeth on Him, may have everlasting life: andI will raise him up at the last day.' I believe; oh, I have not theleast doubt that Jesus is God, that He is able and willing to save, forHe invites all to come to Him for salvation--'Look unto me, and be yesaved, all the ends of the earth.' 'Him that cometh to me I will in nowise cast out.' I know I cannot do anything to deserve salvation--thatall my righteousness is as filthy rags; but He has offered me His, and Ihave accepted it, so that now it is mine and I feel the truth of whatthe Bible says, 'And the work of righteousness shall be peace; and theeffect of righteousness, quietness and assurance forever.' Oh, I am fullof joy at the thought that I am so soon to be with Jesus and to be likeHim."
"Yes, I am glad for you, dear Nan," Ethel said, amid her fast fallingtears, "but my heart is almost broken for myself and our brother andsister; for we all love you so dearly that it will be terrible for us tosee you go."
"Should we not let her rest now?" asked Dorothy gently. "She is lookingvery weary."
"Yes, I fear I have talked too long," returned Ethel, with an anxiouslook at the face on the pillow, "and it is time she had something toeat," and with that she left the room.
She found Harry seated in the little parlor below, looking over theevening paper.
"How is Nan?" he asked, glancing up at her as she entered. Then noticingthat she had been weeping, "O Ethel, is she worse?"
At first Ethel answered only with tears and sobs; then in low, tremuloustones she said, "She is nearing home, Harry. The doctors say she can bewith us only--a little longer--a few weeks or--perhaps but a few days."
Harry had dropped his paper, and tears were coursing down his cheeks. "Idon't believe it! Dear little Nan! we can't let her die. What could weever do without her? something must be done to save her."
Blanche had come in just in time to hear Harry's last words, and wasstanding as if struck dumb with astonishment and dismay. "What is it?oh, what is it?" she asked wildly. "Nan can't be so very ill with thatlovely color in her cheeks and her eyes so bright. Oh, I'm sure she'llsoon be better! quite well, perhaps, when the warm spring days come andthe flowers are in bloom." But tears fell fast from her eyes even as shespoke.
"It's an old saying that while there's life there's hope," said Harry,trying hard to make his tones steady; "so we'll just hope on, at thesame time doing everything that can be done to--to prolong her preciouslife; for she's just the loveliest and dearest little sister that everanybody had."
"Yes," said Ethel, "and nothing is impossible with God. Oh, let us allthree pray that she may be spared to us if it is best for her and forus. I must go now and get her supper ready and carry it up to her."
"It is ready now; broiled bird, toast, fruit, tea, and cake. I thoughtthey would all taste good to her, and you know the doctors say she mayeat anything and everything she fancies."
"That seems to show that they don't consider her so very, very ill,"remarked Harry hopefully. "Let us all go up with the supper. I haven'tseen her since morning, you know."
They did so, and were so cheerfully and pleasantly greeted by the dearyoung invalid that Harry was more than ever convinced that the doctorshad sounded a false alarm.
The sisters too grew hopeful, Dorothy also, and they made quite acheerful little party about the tea table; the maid-of-all-work sittingwith Nannette while they all ate.
But not so with the uncles, to whom the same report of the doctors'opinion had been carried. They came in together just as the young peoplerose from the table, and though they did not express their fears,something in their air and manner remarked those of the others; Ethel'sespecially. She knew they had come to see Nannette, and quickly led theway to her room.
The face on the pillow brightened visibly on their entrance. "Oh, UncleGeorge and Uncle Albert," she exclaimed, holding out her hand with abright, sweet smile, "how good in you to come to see me to-night! I'm sovery glad to see you."
"Are you, dear?" said Uncle George, bending down to kiss the sweet lips."I think not more glad than we are to see you--our own dear little niece;and if there is anything you want--anything that would add to yourcomfort--you must tell us so without the least hesitation."
"Yes, indeed, dear child," added Uncle Albert, caressing her in histurn, "we are ready and desirous to do anything and everything we can torelieve and make you better."
"Thank you, dear uncles," she returned with a very grateful look up intotheir faces, "you are both so good and kind to me always. I don't knowof anything more that I want, but I love you both so dearly, dearly.Please remember that, whenever you think of me after--after I'm gone."
"We won't think of that; we will hope to keep you for a long time, dearlittle Nan," returned her Uncle Albert, his voice betraying someemotion.
Nan gave him a look of yearning affection and slipped a hand into his.
"I know I haven't very long to stay in this world, dear uncle," she saidsoftly, "but no one need be sorry, because I am not; for oh, it will beso sweet to go and live with the dear Saviour, free from sin and sorrowand pain. And I think it will seem only a very little while till all myloved ones will come to be there with me."
"God grant none of us may miss it!" he exclaimed low and feelingly.
"I'm very glad to find you so free from fear of death," remarked herUncle George, taking her other hand and holding it in a tender, lovingclasp, "for it will be easier for you on that account, whatever thefuture may have in store for you. Try, dear child, just to leave thewhole matter in the Lord's hands and be ready to go or stay as He maysee fit to appoint."
"And if I am taken, you will try to comfort my dear sisters and brother,won't you, uncles? for I know they will be full of sorrow, for a time atleast."
Both gave the promise she asked; then after a little more tenderly kindtalk they bade her an affectionate good-night and went away, for theysaw that she was weary and in need of rest.
But they and some of the cousins were there frequently during the fewweeks that she lingered on this side of the river of death, doing all intheir power to add to her comfort and happiness. But the nursing fell toDorothy and the brother and sisters, who one and all esteemed it aprivilege to be with and wait upon the patient, uncomplaining sufferer.
They were all about her when, one lovely spring morning, she passed awayto the better land, going so peacefully and quietly that they scarcelyknew the precise moment when the redeemed spirit took its flight.
It was Dorothy who first perceived that the change had come.
"Dear blessed one!" she sobbed, her tears falling like rain as she bentdown over the still form, laid a hand tenderly upon the cold forehead,and gently closed the eyes. "She has left us to be forever with theLord, and is even now singing the song of redeeming love."
"Yes; it is a blessed change for her," sobbed Ethel, kneeling on theother side of the bed with one cold hand fast clasped in hers, "but oh,how can we ever learn to live without her!"
"Oh, how can we!" cried Blanche, weeping as if her heart would break,while Harry, wi
th a groan of anguish, rushed from the room to lockhimself in his own.
"Dear girls," said Dorothy softly, "be comforted with the thought thatthough she cannot come back to you--and oh, she would not if shecould--you may one day go to her--to that blessed land where parting isunknown."