Chapter IV: The Shadow of Death

ALL through the long hours of the night, a light shone in Widow Lawrence's cottage window, telling of sad and anxious watching. And all night long did Katie's life seem to hang upon so frail a thread that every moment those around her expected it would snap asunder.

With great difficulty, the doctor at last restored her to consciousness; but Katie's whole system had received so severe a shock that he deemed it best to prepare Mrs. Lawrence for the worst, and to express his doubts whether she would survive the night. He stayed with her several hours, and then left full instructions with her mother, impressing on her the necessity of keeping Katie as quiet as possible, and avoiding the least excitement, which, in her weak state, could scarcely prove otherwise than fatal.

Mrs. Lawrence had most fortunately returned home nearly an hour before the mowers brought in poor Katie, so no time was lost, and the doctor had been sent for at once. No one seemed to be able to give any information as to how Katie came to be caught in the storm; and the one all-absorbing fear for her child's life had diverted Mrs. Lawrence's thoughts from the subject.

All through the lonely night the anxious, weary mother sat watching her suffering child, and most fervently did she pray that God in His mercy would spare her young life, and give her time and grace to repent. For with her previous knowledge of Katie's character, she did not doubt but that the sad accident which had befallen her was the result of some fresh act of disobedience on her part.

Towards morning, the mother's prayer seemed answered, for Katie fell into a gentle sleep; her features lost that look of wild excitement, and a calm, peaceful expression took its place.

Tears of gratitude flowed down Mrs. Lawrence's pale cheeks, and seemed a relief to her anxious mind. She arose from her seat by the bedside, and walking to the window, she opened it. The sweet fresh morning air seemed to revive her. Day was just breaking, and the sky was tinged all over with a soft rosy hue.

As she stood gazing on the still and peaceful scene before her, she heard the garden gate open, and a minute afterwards there was a gentle tap at the cottage door. The window of Katie's room was at the side of the house, so that Mrs. Lawrence could not see any one as they came through the garden. She glanced at the bed; Katie was still calmly sleeping. And opening the door as noiselessly as possible, she went down the stairs, thinking that perhaps the doctor had sent to inquire after his patient.

On opening the door, she quite started back on seeing Fanny Price; her hair dishevelled, her dress in disorder, and her eyes swollen with crying. Fanny was no favourite of Mrs. Lawrence's, but she was a kind-hearted woman, and was touched by the girl's evident distress.

"What is the matter, Fanny? What ails you?"

"Oh, Mrs. Lawrence! Is she dead? Pray, pray tell me."

"Of whom are you speaking?"

"Of Katie; oh, tell me, is she dead?"

"She is not dead," said Mrs. Lawrence; "but—"

"Thank God for it! Oh, thank God!" And Fanny sank down upon the door-stop, and burst into a fit of weeping.

"What can you mean, Fanny?" asked Mrs. Lawrence, whose suspicions began to be aroused. "Was it you who—"

"Yes, yes!" cried the girl, passionately. "It was all my fault, Mrs. Lawrence; Katie would not have gone to the fair if I had not persuaded her. If she had died, it would have been I who killed her. We did not come home until late last night, for the storm kept us at Oakfield, and then father told me that the mowers had found Katie Lawrence dead in the fields. And oh, Mrs. Lawrence, I prayed as I never prayed before, that it might not be so; and sinful, wicked as I am, God has heard me."

"Katie is still very, very ill, Fanny; and I must not leave her any longer. I am thankful, for your own sake as well as mine, that God has spared my poor child's life. May it be a lesson to you which you will never forget; a warning how far you entice others into bad ways."

Fanny Price was turning away, for the widow's voice was almost stern in her sorrow, and the girl's eyes fell beneath the expression of the mother's face.

"Stop, Fanny," said Mrs. Lawrence, in a kinder and gentler tone, for the thought had entered her mind that it ill became her, whose child's life had just been so mercifully spared, to bear malice, and to lose the opportunity of exerting a good influence over Fanny's future conduct.

"Stop, Fanny, let us part friends. I forgive you from my heart, and may God give you strength and grace to profit by the sad lesson you have received. If I can advise you at any time, come to me; that's all."

Fanny's tears flowed afresh, but they were tears of gratitude.

"May I come again and ask after Katie?"

"Come whenever you like."

"Thank you again and again," said the girl, as, drawing her shawl over her head, she left the cottage.

Mrs. Lawrence gently closed the door, and went up to Katie's room. Nelly, who had been removed into her mother's room, in order that Katie should be by herself, had not closed her eyes the whole of that sad night.

"Mother, mother," whispered she.

Mrs. Lawrence bent down to kiss the little excited face that was uplifted to hers.

"Is Katie better?"

"I think so, my darling."

"Will she die, mother?"

"I pray—I hope not, Nelly."

"How good God is, mother!"

"Yes, dear child; let us pray that we may love Him as we ought, with all our heart, and mind, and soul, and strength."

When Mrs. Lawrence entered Katie's room, she found her child still sleeping; so she went downstairs again to call Ben, who slept with Tom and Willie in a little room on the ground-floor of the cottage. Poor Ben had been hard at work ploughing all the previous day, and slept soundly. It was not that he did not share in the general anxiety about Katie, for he was a good, affectionate boy, and loved his mother and sisters dearly.

"It's time to get up, Ben; it's nearly five o'clock."

"How's Katie, mother?" said he, rubbing his eyes.

"Better, Ben, thank God. Fanny Price has just been here; it was she that persuaded Katie to go with her to the fair yesterday."

"Dan Carter asked me to go over there too, mother, when I had done my work, but I didn't fancy going, somehow. And I had some work to do in the garden."

"You're a good lad, Ben," said his mother.

"It was Mr. Graham who warned all us boys about the fair last Sunday morning at the school," said Ben, honestly; "perhaps I should have gone if it had not been for that."

"May you always be able to act upon good advice, Ben."

And Mrs. Lawrence returned upstairs to her charge.

Katie was partially awake when her mother entered the room and was moaning sadly, as if in pain.

As her mother approached the bed, she opened her eyes, and gazed wildly round the room.

"Where am I? Where am I? Is the storm over? Oh, mother, mother!"

And meeting her mother's eyes lovingly fixed upon her, Katie's thoughts returned, and the warm tears rolled down her cheeks.

"Oh, mother!" she said, in a weak and broken voice. "I have behaved so ill! You don't know all; if you did, you never would forgive me. I know I am very ill—do you think I shall die, mother?" And the old look of terror returned.

"Hush, Katie darling! The doctor says you must be very, very quiet, and not excite yourself. I know 'all,' Katie—everything, and I have forgiven you long since."

"Dear, dear mother! But will God forgive me? It was a judgment upon me yesterday; I am sure it was; and I feel as if I could never be forgiven."

"You need not feel so, Katie dear. You know our blessed Saviour forgave all who truly repented and came to Him—even His disciple, Peter, when he had denied Him. It is for Jesus Christ's sake that God will forgive you, and change your heart by His Holy Spirit.

"'Whatsoever ye shall ask the Father in My name, He will give you,'
are Jesus' own words.

"And He promised that the Father would give His Holy Spirit to all them that ask Him. But you must not talk any more now, Katie; shut your eyes, and try to sleep again."

"Sing me that hymn, mother."

The tears tame into Mrs. Lawrence's eyes as she complied with Katie's request. She knew well what hymn her child meant. She had been used to sing it to her when quite a little girl, but latterly Katie had not cared much about such things. And the mother's tears were tears of joy as she heard Katie asking for the favourite hymn of her childhood.

Mrs. Lawrence sat by the bedside, holding Katie's hand, and singing in a low voice,—

"'Rock of Ages, cleft for me,
Let me hide myself in Thee
Let the water and the blood,
From Thy riven side which flowed,
Be of sin the double cure,—
Cleanse me from its guilt and power.'"

Before the hymn was finished, Katie had again fallen into a calm and peaceful slumber.

When the doctor came that morning, he told Mrs. Lawrence that all immediate danger was over, and that, with perfect quiet and rest, her daughter would now soon come round again. How thankful Mrs. Lawrence was to hear such good news!

Fanny Price came again in the course of the day to inquire after Katie.

And Mrs. Lawrence spoke kindly to her, advising her to get a situation, and try to become an industrious girl.

"You ought to be earning your own living, and helping your parents, Fanny: you are nearly sixteen, are you not?"

"I was sixteen last week."

"Take my advice, then, and get into service as soon as you can."

Fanny blushed deeply as she replied,—

"We girls have got a bad name in the village, Mrs. Lawrence: I fear no one would take me. A friend of Mrs. Graham's was asking the other day for a girl to help in the nursery, and mother went to the rectory about me, but Mrs. Graham said she could not recommend me to her friend."

"See what it is, Fanny, to lose your good name. Solomon says, 'A good name is rather to be chosen than great riches.'"

"I didn't seem to care at all about it till last night," said Fanny. "And now I do care, it's no use," added she, in a doleful tone.

"Don't say that, Fanny; it is of great use to care; and the very fact of your caring shows that God has softened your heart by the events of last evening. It is never too late to do better."

"It seems harder than ever now to do right, Mrs. Lawrence."

"Ask God for strength, then, to begin at once, and I am sure Mrs. Graham will be one of the first to encourage you to persevere, when she sees you making an effort to do better."

"Oh, Mrs. Lawrence, how kind you are!" said Fanny, with tears in her eyes. "I said yesterday I was glad you were not my mother, but now I feel so differently: no one talks to me at home as you do."

"That may be, Fanny; but you might learn far more than I could teach you if you were to attend the Sunday school, and go more regularly to a place of worship."

"I don't like asking Mrs. Graham to let me go to school again, after behaving so ill, and saying I would not go."

"That is false pride," said Mrs. Lawrence, "and you should not listen to it."

"Would you mind asking Mrs. Graham for me?"

"I will do so willingly, Fanny, if you will make up your mind to attend regularly."

"I will indeed, Mrs. Lawrence," said Fanny, and as she spoke, she shivered violently.

"Did you get wet yesterday?" asked Mrs. Lawrence.

"No, we were in the tent in the fair, all the time of the storm; but I have felt ill ever since. I don't know what is the matter with me."

"Go home now, and keep yourself quiet, Fanny, and don't come up here again to-day. Ben shall call and tell you how Katie goes on, and I will speak to Mrs. Graham when I see her to-morrow."

Mrs. Lawrence had spoken to Fanny at the door, not wishing to ask her in, lest the sound of her voice might excite Katie.

It so happened that by the next evening Fanny Price, Bessie Thompson, and Dan Carter were all taken seriously ill, and the doctor soon pronounced it to be a most virulent kind of smallpox. Dan Carter remembered hearing a tramp, who had been sitting all the afternoon drinking in the tent, say that some of his folk had been very bad with the smallpox.

But it had never struck him that there could be any fear of infection. The heated, bad air of the tent, which became crowded to excess as the storm came on, all added to the danger, and Fanny and her friends happened to be most of the time quite close to the tramp and his wife, who had persuaded the weak, foolish girls to allow her to tell them their fortunes.

Dan's recollection of the tramp's words was his last act of consciousness. From the first, the doctor gave but little hope of him. He had led a very loose life, which was terribly against him. And in less than a week from the day of the fair, the wretched young man was hurried into his Maker's presence, without one moment for repentance, for he had been in a high state of delirium from the time he was first taken ill.

There was weeping, and mourning too, in other cottage houses in Hazelbrook. Bessie Thompson also sank under the violence of the disease, although she lived nearly a week longer than Dan Carter; and God mercifully restored her to consciousness for the last two or three days of her life. Those who witnessed her death-bed scene, never forgot it to the latest moment of their lives. Mr. Graham prayed constantly with her; and trembling, almost despairingly, the unhappy girl was enabled to throw herself at the foot of the cross. We dare not say her end was peace, or that her death presented other than a fearful warning to all who are lovers of pleasure more than lovers of God.

For many days Fanny Price's life was despaired of. The anxiety she had suffered about Katie all seemed to aggravate her illness, and for nearly a week she was quite insensible, raving continually in a manner which affected all who heard her.

After that time, however, she began to recover, although very, very slowly. And we are happy to say she arose from her bed, which had been so nearly one of death, an altered girl. She now listened meekly and thankfully to the teachings of God's Holy Spirit, which she had before so often rejected; and in humble faith, she begged forgiveness of her former sins for Jesus Christ's sake, and prayed for strength to live a new life for the future.