CHAPTER XXX. HOPE DEFERRED. "Let us be patient! These severe afflictions But oftentimes celestial benedictions Assume this dark disguise.” LONGFELLOW. IT would not, I believe, have occasioned Sir Edward Stanley or James Gordon the least surprise had they been informed on their return to the sick room that Herbert had risen from his bed during their absence, so firm was their conviction that the prayers they had offered on his behalf would be answered. But in reply to their eager question whether any favourable change had yet taken place, the nurse shook her head, murmuring as much to herself as them, "No, nor ever will in this world!" "O Mason!" said Sir Edward, not even daunted by such a disheartening report, “I hope we shall find that you are mistaken.” "Well, I hope so too; but I confess I see little chance of it," she answered rather tartly; for, although a general favourite in the Stanley family, and invaluable as a nurse, she had her peculiarities, one of which consisted of a strong dislike to hear her opinion called in question on any point, however slight, and a morbid propensity to take offence where none was intended, and feel herself intensely aggrieved at the bare idea of any one presuming to dispute her authority in the sick room, which she was wont to regard as her own undisputed territory. On this occasion she spoke truly in asserting that there was no probability of her conclusion proving erroneous. The most sprightly imagination would have failed to detect any visible improvement in Herbert's appearance; for he still lay in the same state of deathlike torpor and rigid insensibility, and his scarcely breathing form furnished little room for doubt as to the speedy termination of his illness. "Dr. "You see it's quite impossible that he can hold out much longer," whispered Mason; " for the system is gradually sinking. But," she added, with the view of alleviating her young master's grief, Gibson says he will most likely pass away without any suffering, and that, you know, is a great comfort." A weary, pained look crossed Sir Edward's face, and he glanced uneasily over at James Gordon, as if imploring his help. The latter was instantly at his side, murmuring softly, "Is anything too hard for the Lord? With men this is impossible; but with God all things are possible." "Thank you, my friend," said Sir Edward, smiling faintly. "You make me ashamed of my own faithlessness. A short time since," he went on, passing his hand hastily across his eyes, and speaking in suppressed accents of self-accusation, "I felt as if nothing could shake my confidence, or disturb my hope; and now you see how it is with me: because the Lord does not vouchsafe an immediate answer to my request, I am almost tempted to give up in despair." "Ah! praying is sometimes easier then waiting," observed James Gordon, soothingly; "but the latter is necessary as well as the former." 66 "Yes, I had not thought of that," returned Sir Edward, thoughtfully. "David says, I waited patiently for the Lord; and He inclined unto me, and heard my cry.' "And shall we not echo his words, and say, 'I wait for the Lord, my soul doth wait, and in His word do I hope'?" 66 Gordon, I wish I had a portion of your steadfastness of character, said Sir Edward, abruptly. "O sir, do not speak thus!" exclaimed the other, an expression of real pain passing over his grave, weather-beaten countenance. "You little know what I really am," he continued, with unfeigned sadness and humility. "There are passages in my past life which I would fain blot out from memory's page, were it possible to do so, and which, if breathed in your ear, would have the effect of entirely altering your feelings towards me." "Not so, Gordon," replied Sir Edward, warmly; "I should honour you the more, knowing what difficulties you must have overcome before arriving at your present state of happiness." James Gordon shook his head; but as no other reply suggested itself to his mind, he remained for a short time reflectingly silent. Then suddenly raising his eyes to Sir Edward's face, he said earnestly,― 66 Now, sir, will you not leave everything in God's hands, and go to your own room, and lie down for a few hours?" "for "It would be useless, Gordon; I could not sleep." "But, indeed, sir, you must try," returned the other quickly; your mother's sake," he added, in a tone of persuasion; "it is getting late, you know, and she is naturally anxious about you. I will watch by Mr. Herbert, and let you know if there is any change." "Well, on that condition I yield," said the young man, after a little hesitation; and without venturing another glance at the unconscious occupant of the bed, he softly withdrew. Before following James Gordon's advice, however, he repaired to the drawing-room, where he found his mother on the point of retiring for the night. A few words sufficed to allay her fears regarding himself, and atone for his previous disregard of her wishes; and this matter being arranged to her perfect satisfaction, he left her, feeling greatly in need of rest, the severe mental excitement which he had experienced having by this time given place to a most depressing state of physical exhaustion. After tossing for an hour or two restlessly upon his pillow, Sir Edward fell into a profound slumber, from which he did not awake until late the following morning. Springing hastily up, he inquired of the first servant he met whether there was any news from the sick room; but finding that the latter could give him no reliable information, he lost no time in going to find out how matters stood with his poor friend. As he was cautiously approaching the door, it suddenly opened, and Dr. Gibson came towards him. He looked grave and preoccupied, and would, I think, have passed him without the least sign of re cognition, had not the young man arrested him by laying his hand detainingly upon his arm. "Good morning, my dear sir!" exclaimed the doctor, starting slightly; "I ought to apologise for my abstraction." "Have you nothing to say to me?" asked Sir Edward, in a husky voice of emotion. 66 Well," said the other hesitatingly, "he is still alive "Is that all?" said Sir Edward, with unconcealed disappointment. "It is far more than I anticipated," replied Dr. Gibson, fixing his eyes upon the opposite wall; "I did not expect him to survive the night." "Must you leave him, doctor?" "If I could be of any use to him, I would of course gladly remain; but as it is, my duty imperatively calls me elsewhere." "But you will come back in the course of the day?" said Sir Edward earnestly, observing that the doctor seemed in haste to be gone. 66 Certainly, if you desire it; although I assure you my presence is by no means so indispensable as you imagine, for Mrs. Mason knows precisely what course to adopt, and will, I am persuaded, implicitly follow the instructions I have given her." "Then I need not detain you longer," rejoined Sir Edward, moving aside to let him pass. "It may be," he added musingly, "that the Lord will yet condescend to listen to our prayers, and if not, we must learn to say, Thy will be done.' Meanwhile I will carry the case once more to the throne of grace." Accordingly he retraced his steps, and instead of entering Herbert's room, as he had at first intended, returned to his own apartment. CHAPTER XXXI. GOD'S WAYS ARE ALWAYS RIGHT. "Sure, 'tis a serious thing to die, my soul! What a strange moment must it be, when near Thy journey's end, thou hast the gulf in view." BLAIR. LATER in the day Lady Stanley (probably at Dr. Gibson's recommendation) sent off a telegraphic message-without informing Sir Edward of her intention-to Mr. Seymour, apprising him of Herbert's dangerous condition, and requesting his immediate presence at Lanchester. This communication elicited no reply; but after despatching another, and more urgent one, she received towards evening the following laconic answer : "Mr. and Mrs. Seymour leave London to-morrow, en route for Constantinople. Mr. Seymour is therefore obliged to decline the honour assigned to him by Lady Stanley." The lady's cheek crimsoned with indignation as her eye glanced over the paper, and she tore it in several pieces, and was in the act of flinging it into the grate, when she heard Sir Edward's footsteps approaching. "Mother!" he exclaimed, coming towards her with outstretched arms, and speaking in tones of glad excitement, "I bring you good news; Herbert is decidedly better." "Are you not deceiving yourself, my dear Edward?" she asked doubtingly; " Dr. Gibson "I know," interrupted the young man, smiling slightly, "he despaired long ago." "Not without reason, I fear," remarked the lady, casting a furtive glance at the scraps of paper, which were still unconsumed. "Then we have the greater cause for gratitude," said her son, in a low, earnest voice of deep emotion. "Yes," replied Lady Stanley, hesitatingly, "if your conclusions are well founded." "Will you not come and see for yourself?" asked Sir Edward, springing from the chair into which he had just thrown himself. "Willingly," she answered, with a pensive smile: "I am already much interested in the young man, and should be delighted to think his life might be spared.' "He is perfectly sensible," whispered Sir Edward, pausing for a moment at the door of the sick room. Lady Stanley moved back a step. "If I had been aware of that," she said, "I would not have come; for the sight of a stranger will certainly agitate him." "No, no!" returned her son eagerly; "you will not disturb him in the slightest degree. He told James Gordon, the first day he saw you, that you reminded him of his own mother." But Lady Stanley was not to be persuaded. "If he continues to improve," she said, "I shall soon have an opportunity of seeing him; but just at present he should be kept perfectly quiet, and free from the least excitement." "Indeed, my lady, you are right," exclaimed Mason, coming out of an adjoining room with a wine-glass containing some colourless fluid in her hand; "I cannot even allow Sir Edward to enter the room until-—” "O Mason, how absurd!" cried the young man, looking annoyed; "surely I can do no harm." Mason made no reply; but the expression of her face plainly showed that her mind was quite made up. "I will not utter a word," continued Sir Edward, in a tone of remonstrance; "all I want is to be near my poor friend." "Well, sir, I am sorry to disappoint you," returned the old woman, shaking her head with an air of importance; "but if you really wish the young gentleman to recover, you had better follow my counsel;" and she moved resolutely past him, as if determined to turn a dea fear to all further remonstrance or entreaties. "You must be patient, my dear Edward," said Lady Stanley, putting her hand on his arm, and drawing him away. "When Dr. Gibson comes, you will be able to ask his opinion; and in the meantime it would be very unreasonable to wish to do anything which might prove injurious to your friend." Sir Edward could not but acknowledge the truth of this remark, although he felt greatly inclined to rebel against being so summarily dismissed from Herbert's presence just at the moment when all the care and anxiety he had lavished on him seemed about to meet with a rich reward. But he was obliged to submit; for Dr. Gibson, surprised-nay, even startled at the favourable, and to him inexplicable and wholly unexpected change which had taken place in his patient during his absence, highly approved of all the precautionary measures Mason adopted, and began himself to watch the case with renewed interest and concentrated attention, in order to become thoroughly conversant with the peculiarities of Herbert's constitution, and discover how he could render him the most efficient aid, and assist in promoting his recovery. Not until several weeks had elapsed did he see reason to congratulate himself on having successfully accomplished his task-so gradual and uncertain was the change from sickness to comparative health. 66 "I fear you have found me a very troublesome patient," said Herbert, greeting the doctor with a sweet smile, when he visited him one morning, according to his usual custom. "How are you to-day?" asked the other, as he felt his pulse. 'Well, quite well," was the cheerful rejoinder. 66 "Hum! why do you always say that?" inquired the doctor, moving back a few paces, and regarding him with a fixed look of earnest scrutiny. "Do I?" exclaimed Herbert, in visible surprise. "Yes, when you were as weak as an infant, and scarcely able to articulate a word, you were still 'quite well,' according to your own account." "Ah," replied the young man-and Dr. Gibson marvelled greatly at the bright serenity of his countenance, the grave, unearthly sweet |