Dinah Craik

“ Little Maud's birthday will be in the same month as mine."
"But you came in the snow, Muriel, and now it is warm and mild."
"There will be snow on my birthday, though. There always is. The snow is fond of me, father. It would like me to lie down and be all covered over, so that you could not find me anywhere."
I heard John try to echo her weak, soft laugh.
"This month it will be eleven years since I was born, will it not, father?"
"Yes, my darling."
"What a long time! Then, when my little sister is as old as I am, I shall be—that is, I should have been—a woman grown. ”

“ Halifax, quite convalescent, was brought triumphantly to her old place at our happy Sunday dinner-table, and all the boys came pressing about her, vying which should get most kisses from little sister Maud—she looked round, surprised amidst her smiling, and asked:
"Where is Muriel?"
"She seems to feel this bitter weather a good deal," John said; "and I thought it better she should not come down to dinner."
"No," added Guy, wondering and dolefully, "sister has not been down to dinner with us for a great many days." ”

“ Tod came into the parlour, she rose and put little Maud into her arms.
"Take baby, please, while I go up to see Muriel."
"Don't—now don't, please, Mrs. Halifax," cried earnestly the good woman.
Ursula turned very pale. "They ought to have told me," she muttered; "John, YOU MUST let me go and see my child."
"Presently—presently—Guy, run up and play with Muriel. Phineas, take the others with you. You shall go up-stairs in one minute, my darling wife!" ”

“ Guy was always very good to his sister—always."
"I don't know that," said Guy, in a conscience-stricken tone. "But I mean to be when I grow a big man—that I do."
No one answered. John opened the large Book—the Book he had taught all his children to long for and to love—and read out of it their favourite history of Joseph and his brethren. The mother sat by him at the fireside, rocking Maud softly on her knees. Edwin and Walter settled themselves on the hearth-rug, with great eyes intently fixed on their father. ”

“ The children were wildly happy. All the afternoon they kept up their innocent little games by Muriel's bed-side; she sometimes sharing, sometimes listening apart. Only once or twice came that wistful, absent look, as if she were listening partly to us, and partly to those we heard not; as if through the wide-open orbs the soul were straining at sights wonderful and new—sights unto which HER eyes were the clear-seeing, and ours the blank and blind. ”

“ Nothing more.
"She is dull, for want of the others to play with her. The boys should not run out and leave their sister alone," said John, almost sharply, when one bright morning the lads' merry voices came down from the Flat, while he and I were sitting by Muriel's sofa in the still parlour.
"Father, let the boys play without me, please. Indeed, I do not mind. I had rather lie quiet here."
"But it is not good for my little girl always to be quiet, and it grieves father."
"Does it?" She roused herself, sat upright, and began to move her limbs, but wearily.
"That is right, my darling. ”

“ Jessop himself had told us this very morning—how the father and mother had borne this first open revelation of their unutterable grief—for ever remained unknown.
I was sitting by Muriel's bed, when they came up-stairs. The darling laid listening to her brother, who was squatted on her pillow, making all sorts of funny talk. There was a smile on her face; she looked quite rosy: I hoped Ursula might not notice, just for the time being, the great change the last few weeks had made. ”

“ Strange that He should hear us cry—us writhing in the dust, "O Father, anything, anything but this!" But our Father answers not; and meanwhile the desire of our eyes—be it a life, a love, or a blessing—slowly, slowly goes—is gone. ”

“ We must be very happy to-day."
"Oh, yes." Then, in a fond whisper, "Please, I do so want to see little Maud."
"Who?" with an absent gaze.
"My little sister Maud—Maud that is to take my place, and be everybody's darling now."
"Hush, Muriel," said the father, hoarsely.
A strangely soft smile broke over her face—and she was silent.
The new baby was carried up-stairs proudly, by Mrs. Tod, all the boys following. Quite a levee was held round the bed, where, laid close beside her, her weak hands being guided over the tiny face and form, Muriel first "saw" her little sister. She was greatly pleased. ”

“ Maud is but the baby. Muriel will be always 'sister.'"
"Sister" faintly laughed, as she answered his fond kiss—Guy was often thought to be her favourite brother.
"Now, off with you, boys; and go down-stairs quietly—mind, I say quietly."
They obeyed—that is, as literally as boy-nature can obey such an admonition. But an hour after I heard Guy and Edwin arguing vociferously in the dark, on the respective merits and future treatment of their two sisters, Muriel and Maud.
John and I sat up late together that night. ”

“ Jessop seen her?"
"Several times."
"Mother," said Guy, eager to comfort—for naughty as he was sometimes, he was the most tender-hearted of all the boys, especially to Muriel and to his mother,—"sister isn't ill a bit, I know. She was laughing and talking with me just now—saying she knows she could carry baby a great deal better than I could. She is as merry as ever she can be." ”

“ It melted away into things of the past, and became only a picture, for evermore.
"Now, boys—it is full time to say good-night. There, go and kiss your sister."
"Which?" said Edwin, in his funny way. "We've got two now; and I don't know which is the biggest baby."
"I'll thrash you if you say that again," cried Guy. "Which, indeed? ”