"I don't know; I feel kind of faint."

"Does your head pain you?"

"No, sir; it feels numb, and everything seems to be flying round."

"I dare say."

Harry expressed an earnest desire to go home, and the physician consented to accompany him in a carriage to Mrs. Flint's residence. He had been conveyed in his insensible condition to a house in Boylston Street, the people of which were very kind to him, and used every effort to make him comfortable.

A carriage was procured, and Harry was a.s.sisted to enter it; for he was so weak and confused that he could not stand alone. Ben had struck him a terrible blow; and, as the physician declared, it was almost a miracle that he had not been killed.

Mrs. Flint and Katy were shocked and alarmed when they saw the helpless boy borne into the house; but everything that the circ.u.mstances required was done for him.

"Has Edward come home?" he asked, when they had placed him on the bed.

"No, not yet."

"They will wonder what has become of me at the store," continued the sufferer, whose thoughts reverted to his post of duty.

"I will go down to the store and tell them what has happened," said Mr. Callender, the kind gentleman to whose house Harry had been carried, and who had attended him to his home.

"Thank you, sir; you are very good. I don't want them to think that I have run away, or anything of that sort."

"They will not think so, I am sure," returned Mr. Callender, as he departed upon his mission.

"Do you think I can go to the store to-morrow?" asked Harry, turning to the physician.

"I am afraid not; you must keep very quiet for a time."

Harry did not like this announcement. He had never been sick a day in his life; and it seemed to him just then as though the world could not possibly move on without him to help the thing along. A great many persons cherish similar notions, and cannot afford to be sick a single day.

I should like to tell my readers at some length what blessings come to us while we are sick; what angels with healing ministrations for the soul visit the couch of pain; what holy thoughts are sometimes kindled in the darkened chamber; what n.o.ble resolutions have their birth in the heart when the head is pillowed on the bed of sickness. But my remaining s.p.a.ce will not permit it; and I content myself with remarking that sickness in its place is just as great a blessing as health; that it is a part of our needed discipline. When any of my young friends are sick, therefore, let them yield uncomplainingly to their lot, a.s.sured that He who hath them in his keeping "doeth all things well."

Harry was obliged to learn this lesson; and when the pain in his head began to be almost intolerable, he fretted and vexed himself about things at the store. He was not half as patient as he might have been; and, during the evening, he said a great many hard things about Ben Smart, the author of his misfortune. I am sorry to say he cherished some malignant, revengeful feelings towards him, and looked forward with a great deal of satisfaction to the time when he should be arrested and punished for his crime.

Both Mr. Wake and Mr. Wade called upon him as soon as they heard of his misfortune. They were very indignant when they learned that Harry was suffering for telling the truth. They a.s.sured him that they should miss him very much at the store, but they would do the best they could--which, of course, was very pleasant to him. But they told him they could get along without him, bade him not fret, and said his salary should be paid just the same as though he did his work.

"Thank you! thank you! You are very good," exclaimed Harry.

"Yes," Mr. Wade continued; "and, as it will cost you more to be sick, we will raise your wages to four dollars a week. What do you say, Wade?"

"Certainly," replied the junior, warmly.

There was no possible excuse for fretting now. With so many kind friends around him, he had no excuse for fretting; but his human nature rebelled at his lot, and he made himself more miserable than the pain of his wound could possibly have made him. Mrs. Flint, who sat all night by his bedside, labored in vain to make him resigned to his situation. It seemed as though the great trial of his lifetime had come--that which he was least prepared to meet and conquer.

The next day he was very feverish. His head ached, and the pain of his wound was very severe. His moral condition was, if possible, worse than on the preceding night. He was fretful, morose, and unreasonable towards those kind friends who kept vigil around his bedside. Strange as it may seem, and strange as it did seem to himself, his thoughts seldom reverted to the little angel. Once, when he thought of her extended on the bed of pain as he was then, her example seemed to reproach him. She had been meek and patient through all her sufferings--had been content to die, even, if it was the will of the Father in heaven. With a peevish exclamation, he drove her--his guardian angel, as she often seemed to him--from his mind, with the reflection that she could not have been as sick as he was, that she did not endure as much pain as he did. For several days he remained in pretty much the same state. His head ached, and the fever burned in his veins. His moral symptoms were not improved, and he continued to snarl and growl at those who took care of him.

"Give me some cold water, marm; I don't want your slops," fretted he, when Mrs. Flint brought him his drink.

"But the doctor says you mustn't have cold water." It was twenty-five years ago.

"Confound the doctor! Give me a gla.s.s of cold water, and I will--"

The door opened then, causing him to suspend the petulant words; for one stood there whose good opinion he valued more than that of any other person.

"Oh, Harry! I am so sorry to see you so sick!" exclaimed Julia Bryant, rushing to his bedside.

She was followed by her father and mother; and Katy had admitted them unannounced to the chamber.

"Julia! is it you?" replied Harry, smiling for the first time since the a.s.sault.

"Yes, Harry; I hope you are better. When I heard about it last night, I would not give father any peace till he promised to bring me to Boston."

"Don't be so wild, Julia," interposed her mother. "You forget that he is very sick."

"Forgive me, Harry; I was so glad and so sorry. I hope I didn't make your head ache," she added, in a very gentle tone.

"No, Julia. It was very good of you to come and see me."

Harry felt a change come over him the moment she entered the room. The rebellious thoughts in his bosom seemed to be banished by her presence; and though his head ached and his flesh burned as much as ever, he somehow had more courage to endure them.

After Mr. and Mrs. Bryant had asked him a few questions, and expressed their sympathy in proper terms, they departed, leaving Julia to remain with the invalid for a couple of hours.

"I did not expect to see you, Julia," said Harry, when they had gone.

"Didn't you think I would do as much for you as you did for me?"

"It was rather different with you. I am only a poor boy, and you are a rich man's child."

"Pooh, Harry! Our souls are all of a color. You can't think how bad I felt when father got Mr. Wake's letter."

"It's a hard case to be knocked down in that way, and laid up in the house for a week or two."

"I know it; but we must be patient."

"Can't be patient. I haven't any patience--not a bit. If I could get hold of Ben Smart, I would choke him. I hope they will catch him and send him to the state prison for life."

Julia looked sad. These malignant words did not sound like those of the Harry West she had known and loved. They were so bitter that they curdled the warm blood in her veins, and the heart of Harry seemed less tender than before.

"Harry," said she, in soft tones, and so sad that he could not but observe the change which had come over her.

"Well, Julia."

"You don't mean what you said."

"Don't mean it?"

"No, I am sure you don't. Do you remember what the Bible says?"