Read Ebook: Timid Lucy by Baker Sarah S Sarah Schoonmaker

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Ebook has 486 lines and 25221 words, and 10 pages

"What can you be thinking about?" said Harty, as she looked earnestly at the pretty thing.

"Pleasant thoughts," said Rosa, smiling, as she took from his hand a huge beetle.

Lucy wondered to see her sister take what seemed to her such a frightful thing so calmly in her hand. "There now! I like that!" shouted Harty, "she handles it like a boy. There's Lucy, she screams if I put such a thing near her, if it has been dead a month. Isn't she a goose?"

Lucy looked anxiously at Rosa, fearing she would say something unkind.

"Oh! yes, she is a little goose," was the reply, "but such a dear little goose, that I am sure I shall love her very much. We must teach her not to be afraid of trifles."

The timid child clasped Rosa's hand more closely, and inwardly resolved to try to please her sister in everything. She even touched with the tip of her finger a snake-skin from which she had always shrunk before, as she heard Harty and Rosa admiring it, while they handled it freely.

Some of the specimens which Harty seemed to think very precious were uninteresting to Rosa, and some were even disgusting; but she looked at all, and tried to discover the beauties which Harty so eagerly pointed out.

Her uncle had taught her that politeness is a Christian duty, and to be always shown, even to nearest relatives, and to those younger than ourselves.

Harty was delighted, and slapped Rosa on the back in token of his pleasure. "You are a glorious girl!" said Harty; "why, if that had been Lucy, she would have cried, and said I always hurt her."

"You forget," said Rosa, "that Lucy is a delicate little girl; you cannot play with her as you would with a boy. You must take care of her, as the knights of old guarded their ladye-love, and handle her as carefully as you would a bird's nest."

At this Harty laughed, and Lucy smiled.

"Now for the orchard," cried Harty; and away he ran, pulling the girls so rapidly along that they could hardly keep from falling down stairs.

A pleasant place was that orchard; the grass was fresh and short, and some of the branches of the old trees bent almost to the ground. Under these Harty had placed wooden seats, and there it was his delight to study. Very little studying he accomplished, though, for his eye wandered at one moment to a ripe apple on the topmost bough, and the next to a curious insect that was creeping on the trunk near him.

Rosa placed herself on the rustic seat, and looked upward through the waving branches to the clear blue sky above, and a half smile came over her face, that Harty did not understand. He did not guess that the sweet scene was filling the heart of his sister with love to the great Creator. Nor did Lucy understand her any better; but the expression on her sister's countenance made her warm with love towards her.

Harty soon grew restless, and engaged his companions for a race. Away they flew over the soft grass, and Rosa was the first to reach the fence, which had been agreed upon as the goal; Lucy came next, while Harty, puffing and panting, brought up the rear.

"I declare that was not fair," he began; "we did not start together."

"Never mind," said Rosa; "we girls ought to be the fastest runners, for that is all we can do in danger. Girls run, while boys must stand and defend themselves and their sisters."

This view of the case suited Harty, and reconciled him to his defeat; and they continued chatting amicably in the orchard and piazza until the bell rang for them to prepare for dinner. As they entered the house, Mrs. Maxwell met them, and looking sternly at Rosa, she said, "I hoped you were going to set a good example, Miss Rosa, to these careless children, but there I found your room all in confusion, while you were out running races. Your father has reckoned without his host, if he looks to you to make them particular."

Rosa knew that it had cost her an effort to leave the room in that condition, and that she had done so to please her brother. She did not defend herself, however, for she now saw that it would have been better to make him wait a few moments. Hastening up stairs, she soon found a place for everything, and put everything in its place, and as she did so, she resolved not to let her anxiety to win the affection of her brother and sister lead her astray.

Dr. Vale looked very happy, when he sat down to dinner with his family about him. He was pleased with Rosa's easy, cheerful manner, and delighted to see Lucy's face lighted with smiles, and Harty doing his best to act the gentleman. And acting it was, for anything like politeness was far from being habitual with him.

When they rose from the table, Dr. Vale led his eldest daughter to her room, and entering it, closed the door. The doctor walked towards the portrait, and gazed at it a few moments in silence, then, turning to Rosa, he said, with some emotion, "You do not, I fear, remember your mother distinctly, my child. I have had this life-like image of your mother placed where it will be ever near you, that it may remind you of the part that you must act to the dear children. May God bless and assist you in your task: pray earnestly to Him to watch over you and guide you, and you cannot fail. And now, dearest, never think me cold nor stern, when I am silent. My professional cares often weigh so heavily upon me that I notice but little what is passing around me; but nothing can so absorb my mind as to make me indifferent to the welfare of my children. Come to me with all that troubles you, and you shall find a father's heart, though perhaps a faltering tongue."

The doctor pressed his daughter to his bosom, kissed her forehead, and left the room. As soon as he had gone, Rosa fell on her knees to implore the God of all good to strengthen her for the great task that was before her, and to enable her to make herself such an example as the children might safely follow.

AN ACCIDENT.

In about half an hour there was a gentle tap at Rosa's door. It was Lucy, who entered timidly, and going towards Rosa, said, blushing, "Don't mind Mrs. Maxwell, dear; she often speaks in that way to me, when she don't mean anything."

"Mind her! No and yes: she will not worry me; but I shall be glad to have some one to make me remember to be neat at all times. Where's Harty?" said Rosa.

"He's getting ready to go to the woods: he wants you to go with him."

"With all my heart," answered Rosa. "Are we to go now?"

"Yes, as soon as we can put on our bonnets," said Lucy, as she went to her room, to get her things. She put on a pair of thin slippers, although she knew they were to cross a damp meadow, for she could not make up her mind to wear the thick boots that were so much more suitable. Lucy had certain articles of dress which it gave her great pleasure to wear, and these shoes were among the favourites. Many a cold and sore-throat they had cost her, but her vanity was not overcome even by such consequences.

Hand in hand the three children walked merrily along, chatting as pleasantly as if they had not been parted for years.

Rosa and Harty declared that they liked to step on the soft meadow, that it was like a rich carpet that yielded to their feet. Their shoes were so thick that they did not feel the dampness, and they had no idea how uncomfortable Lucy was, in her thin slippers, thoroughly soaked with the moisture. They soon entered the woods, where the tall trees grew so close together that they almost shut out the pleasant sunlight. Here Rosa found so much to admire that she was constantly exclaiming with delight. She had not lived in the country since her childhood, and there was a charm in everything that met her eyes. Sometimes she was struck with new beauties, and sometimes she was reminded of by-gone days.

"Do you remember, Harty," she said, "how we came here together, when you were a little bit of a boy, and made a house under that tree for my doll to lie in? And have you forgotten, when we where gathering chestnuts just here, and I found I had lost my shawl, and how we hunted, and found it at last hanging on the fence by the meadow?"

Harty remembered these and many other occasions when he had enjoyed rambles with his sister; and they continued calling the past to mind, until poor Lucy felt quite sad that she knew nothing of what caused them so much pleasure. She grew silent, and at last withdrew her hand from Rosa, as she thought, "Yes, it will be as Julia Staples said, Harty and Rosa will go together, and not care for me."

The sun was just setting when they drew near home on their return. They had taken a long walk, but Lucy had not recovered her spirits, although Rosa, perceiving that she was not happy, had done all in her power to amuse her. Lucy felt half inclined to laugh and enjoy herself occasionally, but then the wicked, jealous thought would come up in her mind, and she grew sober again, and coldly answered her sister's cheerful remarks.

They had walked through the woods quite round to the back of the house, and were almost to the pleasant orchard, when they came to a wide brook, which they must cross to reach the by-path that led to the house. A single plank was placed across the stream. Harty ran gaily over, and went up the hill on the other side without looking behind him.

"Let me lead you over," said Rosa, kindly offering her hand to her little sister.

"I had rather go by myself," answered Lucy, sullenly, and placed her foot on the plank. She walked tremblingly on until she was half over, then the plank shook a little, and she grew frightened, swayed from side to side, lost her balance, and fell into the brook.

Lucy's shriek attracted the attention of Harty, who was by this time some distance up the hill, and he hastened towards her; but she had scarcely sunk in the water before Rosa had leaped from the bank and caught her in her arms.

The stream was rapid, and the fearless girl could hardly have kept her footing had she not caught hold of the plank above with one hand, while with the other she carried the half-fainting Lucy.

They reached the opposite side in safety, and Harty was there to assist them in climbing the bank. Great tears stood in his eyes, not from fright for Lucy, but from admiration of Rosa's courage.

"You are a sister worth having!" were his first words. "How I wish you were a boy!"

Poor Lucy, what pain these words gave her! Although she had been in such danger, Harty only thought of Rosa!

The true-hearted sister, meanwhile, was lifting her thoughts in thankfulness to Him who had enabled her to save the life of the child.

Lucy was too weak to walk home, and Rosa and Harty formed a lady-chair with their arms, and carried her safely up the hill, Rosa laughing at their ridiculous appearance in their wet clothing, for she had plunged into the stream up to her neck.

"Here we are! all safe and sound!" shouted Harty, as Mrs. Maxwell came out to meet the strange-looking party.

"A pretty-looking set you are! Do not come into the house in that condition!" was Mrs. Maxwell's reply. "Pray where have you been?" she continued: "I wonder if we are to have such doings all the time."

Rosa gently but firmly replied, that Lucy had been in great danger, and she thought she ought to be undressed immediately, and placed in a warm bed.

There was something in Rosa's quiet, dignified manner that awed Mrs. Maxwell: she came forward and took Lucy from their arms without another word, while Rosa hastened to her room to put herself in order to wait upon her sister. In a few moments she was neatly dressed, and standing by Lucy's bedside.

Dr. Vale had returned, and having heard from Harty an account of the matter, was soon with his little daughter. He ordered a warm draught to be administered, and said he did not think she needed any other medicine, as she seemed not to be really injured, only much agitated by the fright.

He kissed the little girl tenderly as he thought how near he had been to losing his pet, and greatly praised Rosa's promptness and courage in saving her from the death with which she was threatened.

Lucy could not thank her sister, for she felt guilty, as she remembered the unkind, suspicious thoughts that were in her mind when the accident happened. She shuddered at the idea that she might have died while her spirit was so unfit to go into the presence of the holy God. She felt that she had been very wicked, and she could not believe that God would pardon her.

"I know I shall be very ill," she said to herself, "because I was so naughty, and perhaps I shall die, and then nobody would care, and Harty and Rosa would be just as happy."

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