PART III

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HE MAKETH THE STORM A CALM, SO THAT THE WAVES THEREOF ARE STILL.

FOR THIS PURPOSE THE SON OF GOD WAS MANIFESTED, THAT HE MIGHT DESTROY THE WORKS OF THE DEVIL.

BE NOT AFRAID, ONLY BELIEVE.

HE HATH SENT ME TO BIND UP THE BROKEN-HEARTED, TO PROCLAIM LIBERTY TO THE CAPTIVES.

"SHE doesn't know what she is saying," said Mrs. Harrison, and she turned away with a sigh that came from her very heart. On the bed lay Ethol, all her beautiful curls cut off, her face purple with fever, and her eyes unnaturally bright.

"Yes, I do know, mamma, and I want her very much; she is in our class in Sunday-school, and I want to ask something. Send for her, mamma, right away."

"But my darling child, the doctor said you must be kept very still, and see no one, and try to sleep."

"I have tried, mamma, with all my might; it seems to me as though I had tried for a hundred years, and every minute I am wider awake. I want to see Sarah—Sarah Lambert."

You have discovered before this that Ethol was sick; so sick that Doctor Everett, with a very grave face, had told her father and mother only that morning, that he feared she could not get well.

"You see," he said, "it would really be better if she were quite out of her head. As it is, she is just delirious enough to have vague ideas of what is going on, and to be troubled, and she gets no rest day nor night. But we will do all we can. Don't let her be worried about anything, and don't let any one see her; and try all you can to get her to sleep."

And here she was, an hour afterwards, insisting on having Sarah Lambert sent for! Her mother did not know what to do. She only knew Sarah as a little girl who wore the same ugly calico to school day after day, and very ragged shoes, and lived over Mr. Dunlap's stable. So much she had heard from Ethol. The very fact that Ethol wanted to see her, showed that she did not know what she was about.

Now, what was the mother to do? Here were the doctor's orders: "Don't let her see anybody," and "Don't let her be worried about anything." One of them must be disobeyed; they ran across each other. It ended in a message being sent to school building No. 34 for Sarah Lambert to call at Mr. Harrison's at once.

[Illustration: "HE MAKETH THE STORM."]

Then Ethol frightened her mother still more by urging that she be left quite alone with Sarah. She was so eager, and her fever rose so much higher while she urged, that Mrs. Harrison gave frightened consent, and then went out and cried, to think of what she had done.

"Little girl," she said to Sarah, "do you know she is very, very sick, and there is great danger that you will make her worse? You must come away just as soon as she will let you, and don't talk to her any more than you can help, and don't for anything in the world, let her know how sick she is."

Then Sarah went into the pretty room, and the first words that Ethol said to her were:

"Do they think I am going to die?"

Now the truth was that Sarah Lambert had learned to do one thing well, and that was, to speak the truth: she always gave strictly honest answers in school; some of the girls laughed at her, but everybody believed her. A memory of this may have been running through Ethol's sick little brain, when she insisted on having her sent for.

"I guess they think so," said Sarah, gravely, "but I don't."

There was something so quietly earnest in this answer, that Ethol could not help thinking about the last, instead of the first.

"Why don't you?" she asked.

"Because I've been telling Him all about you; he can cure you so easy—just like he did the little girl. She was twelve years old. They laughed at him because he said she was only asleep; she was dead, you know, but he waked her up. He can cure people after they are dead, and of course he can before; and I told him about you, just as her father did about her, and asked him to come and lay his hand on you, and he said to me 'Be not afraid, only believe.' So now I do believe."

"I don't understand you," said Ethol, her eyes seeming to grow larger; "you are talking about Jesus, I know, but how 'could' he say that to you?"

"Whispered it; just like his ear was close down to mine. I heard him; I often hear him; he's chosen me, you know. Don't you remember that time I asked you if you was chosen?"

"Yes," said Ethol, gravely, "I remember. But I'm not a chosen one."

"I guess you are. I've asked him about you lots of times. He wants you to belong, and he's going to make you well, so you can. You must 'Be not afraid, only believe.'"

"Believe what?" said Ethol.

"Everything he says. I learn new things all the time. I didn't know much of anything about him when I went to the Sunday-school; you got me to go, you know. I told him that, too. There! I forgot I wasn't to talk to you; you are to go to sleep."

"I can't go to sleep," said Ethol; "I've tried for days and days, and I know mamma thinks I am going to die; and oh, Sarah, I'm afraid to die!"

"You must 'Be not afraid, only believe,'" said Sarah again. "That is what he said to his disciples when he was on his way to cure the sick girl; that is what he said to me. He is on his way to cure you now, and I guess he wants you to sleep so he can. Look here, shut your eyes, and I'll tell you the words on my card, over and over, and when I have said them ten times, you must be asleep."

What strange power had the grave little voice over Ethol's throbbing veins? She began in a low, steady tone:

"'He maketh the storm a calm, so that the waves thereof are still.' 'For this purpose the Son of God was manifested, that he might destroy the works of the devil.' 'Be not afraid, only believe.' 'He hath sent me to bind up the broken-hearted, to proclaim liberty to the captive.'"

Then, without the slightest pause, the low steady voice began again:

"'He maketh the storm a calm—'"

Mrs. Harrison had promised her little daughter that she should not be interrupted while talking with Sarah Lambert, but at last the poor mother grew so frightened over the stillness, that she opened the door.

But Sarah shook her head, and put her finger on her lip, and went on in the same low tone:

"'He maketh the storm a calm—'"

And Ethol was asleep.

[Illustration]