Melody The Story of a Child

e wrinkled wax. Between them, the doctor and Miss Vesta got her back into bed, and rubbed her hands, and put stimulants between her closed lips. At last her b

whispered; "the

and then you shall tell us how it happened. Why, we found you on the floor, my child,"-Miss Rejoice was older t

did, driving through the village on their way to the mountains. The sick woman heard a man speaking, in smooth, soft tones; she caught the words: "A little drive-fine afternoon;" and Melody's clear voice replying, "No, thank you, sir; you are very kind, but my aunt and I are alone, and I could not leave her. Shall I bring you a glass of water?" Then-oh, then-there was a sound of steps, a startled murmur in the beloved voice, and then a scream. Oh, such a scream! Rejoice Dale shrank down in her bed, and cried out herself in agony at the memory of it. She had called, she had shrieked aloud, the hel

and failed at times, like a strange instrument one has not learned how to master,-Miss Vesta told her story, of the d

r the child herself. But mostly for you, oh, my God! mostly for you. And when I came to myself and knew you would rather die ten times over than have luxuries bought with the child's happy, innocent life,-when I came to myself, I was ashamed, and did not tell you, for I did not want you to think badly

hinking, wondering, casting about in his mind for cou

not come nigh thee,'" she said steadfastly. "Our blind child is in her Father's hand, S

er hands and weeping. "I cannot leave yo

strong woman wrung her hands again, and moaned like a dumb creature in pain; the helples

of us could bear it if you stayed. If I know you are

ome," said Miss Vesta,

ack with the child. Go at once, Vesta; don't lose a moment. Put on your bonnet and shawl, and Doctor will

pose. I have no choice in the matter. Girls!" he cried, "you know well enough that if it were my own life, I would throw it down the well to give the child an hour's pleasure, let alone saving her from misery,-and perhaps from death!" he added to himself; for only he and the famous physician who had examined Melody at his instance knew that under all the joy and vigor of the child's simple, healthy life lay do

e, and he had been deeply in love with her when he was an awkward boy of fifteen, and she a lovely seventeen-year-old girl. They had called him "doctor" at first in sport, when he came home to pra

than you can help! There are all the sick people looking to y

it. "I will give Vesta a note to Dr. Anthony," he said, brightening a little at the thought. "He will do anythin

ce," he repeated doggedly, hugging his duty close, as if to dull the pressure of the pain within. "But how can you

ck woman closed her eyes, and waited. God would help, in His good way. She knew no more, and no more was needed. There were a few moments of silence,

r tone than its usual soft murmur. It deepened still; took form, rhythm; made itself a body of sound, sweet, piercing, thrilling on the ear.

th her hands, and rocking to and fro,-"oh, who shall t