CHAPTER XXXVII.

A NEW THOUGHT.

IT was by the first post that Rose received a letter from her husband appointing to be with her at ten o'clock, bringing an easy carriage for their darling.

The whole household could think of nothing else, and now Randall's dainty clothes, which he had grown out of a year or two back, were brought out, and Lester was taken from the bed and carefully dressed in them.

Mrs. Leigh sat with him on her lap, her face very white and quiet, as each fresh thing done for her child made her realize more fully all he had lost.

He passively suffered them to do what they would with him. But by the time the little outside coat had been buttoned up, his head dropped on his mother's shoulder, and he was tired out.

Rose looked up at nurse beseechingly. "Ought I to have dressed him?" she asked anxiously.

"It is hard to say, ma'am," nurse answered, "but another time I would not trouble about these last things, a shawl over all would have done as well."

Then came the carriage, and Mr. Leigh was shut up in the dining-room with Mrs. Shaddock and Rose for what seemed a very long time, while Gertrude waited rather breathlessly up-stairs with the drooping child.

At last they came out, Mrs. Shaddock wiping her eyes, and Mr. and Mrs. Leigh hastening up the stairs to where Gertrude sat, holding little Lester on her knee.

In a moment more the young father came down carrying the little invalid, Rose and Gertrude following.

"I can never, never thank you," said Rose, taking Mrs. Shaddock's hand. "Some day I hope we may come back and be able to do so better than to-day!"

She nearly broke down, but, struggling for calmness, she bade a hasty adieu to the rest, and quickly got to the carriage, where already Fritz was seated.

Gertrude went to the carriage-door, and kissed her sister through the open window.

"Oh, how I wish you were going with me!" said Rose regretfully.

"I could not, dearest; they have been so kind already. We shall meet this afternoon."

"Yes, yes; good-bye till then."

The carriage moved away, and Gertrude turned back to the house, wishing intensely that she could have gone to the physician's with them.

Daisy and Mollie were waiting for her in the hall.

"Miss Ashlyn, do tell us what makes mother cry. Does the physician give any hope? Mother does nothing but cry."

"Go up-stairs, dears," answered Gertrude; "I will follow you in a moment. I expect your mother is rather upset with it all."

She really felt great compunction when she saw Mrs. Shaddock sitting with her face buried in her hands.

She advanced to her side and sat down by her, quietly drawing her white shawl over her shoulders, and said, in a soothing, comforting tone—

"They got off very comfortably, thanks to all your kindness, dear Mrs. Shaddock. I hope that I may bring you a better account this evening."

"Oh, that poor little mother's face!" said Mrs. Shaddock.

"Rose?" questioned Gertrude.

"Yes—if you could have seen her face when her husband was telling her what Dr. Blank said."

"Did he give any opinion?" asked Gertrude eagerly.

"Not on this case, of course," said Mrs. Shaddock, looking up, "but he gave a hope."

Gertrude did not reply; this was almost more than she had dared to expect.

"I could have wished that they might return here," Mrs. Shaddock went on, "but I can see that the distance is great, and that it will be well to be near Dr. Blank while things are not quite decided."

Gertrude expressed again her earnest thanks for their hospitality, and then proposed that she should seek her pupils, and take up the lessons which had been so interrupted.

"Do not worry over that," said Mrs. Shaddock; "their father says all this is the best education they could have."

"Does he?" said Gertrude. "How very kind, and what a nice thought!"

She had risen to go to her pupils, but Mrs. Shaddock seemed as if she could not bear to let her go.

"Miss Ashlyn—my dear—your sister. I cannot forget your sister."

"She will be better when all this is settled," said Gertrude consolingly.

"Better?" echoed Mrs. Shaddock. "She could hardly be better! Her patience, her resignation, her trust—I never saw anything like it."

"Yes, indeed it is," answered Gertrude heartily.

She had become so accustomed to Rose's beautiful character that she had hardly noticed it.

"You found me very upset," Mrs. Shaddock went on hesitatingly, and yet as if she must say it, "but she said something as we sat together last night, which made me feel different from anything I have ever felt before."

Gertrude looked inquiringly at her.

"I had just said to her, 'I never saw any one bear a trial such as this so bravely; I suppose you would say it is religion helps you, but I do not understand it.' And she answered, with such an earnest look, 'Mrs. Shaddock, it is not 'religion,' it is just Jesus! He is everything to me—everything!'"

"What Rose said is the truth," answered Gertrude softly. "She would not have said it unless she had known it was true."

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