18 THE SICK CHILD. 



impart no warmth to his benumbed frame, and no good 

 augury to his trembling heart. Before this sun goes down 

 (thought he), and fearing h^ scarce knew what each moment 

 he was absent from his post, he hastened to resume it, but not 

 till he had hastily plucked a little bunch of flowers. But one 

 day previous he would not have dared to gather them, to deco- 

 rate the sick chamber, then most likely to become, ere night, 

 the chamber of death ; but now there was hope, at least, in that 

 quiet slumber. It had not been broken when the father 

 returned, but in a few moments the sleeper's eyes opened and, 

 as if the intense affection of her parent's gaze had been felt 

 even through the closed lids, turned directly towards the fond 

 anxious face beside her. 



" I've brought my Eachel a pretty nosegay," said he, as he 

 stooped forward to kiss her, and laid the flowers on the 

 coverlid. The child, grasping them in her little thin fingers, 

 raised them to her faded face. 



" Stay, darling, there's a Lady -bird on that white rose, let 



me put it out." 



"Oh, pretty Lady -bird!" cried the little girl, her large 



sunken eyes lighting up for a moment with childish delight. 



" No, let me keep it only all to-day ; and to-morrow I'll take 



it out myself, and bid it fly away home, as poor mamma so 



often told me." 



" But suppose it should please to fly away to-day, how can 



my little Eachel help it?" 



