"That is the secret of her interest in you. We love those best whom we serve most. She is asleep now; but you shall see her as soon as she wakes. In the meantime you had better have your dinner."
Mr. Bryant looked very pale, and his eyes were reddened with weeping. Harry saw how much he had suffered during the last fortnight; but it seemed natural to him that he should suffer terribly at the thought of losing one so beautiful and precious as the little angel.
He dined alone with Mr. Bryant, for Mrs. Bryant could not leave the couch of the little sufferer. The fond father could speak of nothing but Julia, and more than once the tears flooded his eyes, as he told Harry how meek and patient she had been through the fever, how loving she was, and how resigned even to leave her parents, and go to the heavenly Parent, to dwell with Him forever.
Harry wept, too; and after dinner he almost feared to enter the chamber, and behold the wreck which disease had made of this bright and beautiful form. Removing the wrapper from the book he had brought--a volume of sweet poems, entitled "Angel Songs"--he followed Mr. Bryant into the sick girl's chamber.
"Ah, Harry, I am delighted to see you!" exclaimed she, in a whisper, for her diseased throat rendered articulation difficult and painful.
"I am sorry to see you so sick, Julia," replied Harry, taking the wasted hand she extended to him.
"I am better, Harry. I feel as though I should get well now."
"You don't know how much I have thought of you while I lay here; how I wished you were my brother, and could come in every day and see me," she continued, with a faint smile.
"Now tell me how you get along in Boston."
"Very well; but your father says I must not talk much with you now. I have brought you a little book," and he placed it in her hand.
"How good you are, Harry! 'Angel Songs.' How pretty! Now, Harry, you must read me one of the angel songs."
"I will; but I can't read very well," said he, as he opened the volume.
But he did read exceedingly well. The piece he selected was a very pretty and a very touching little song; and Harry's feelings were so deeply moved by the pathetic sentiments of the poem and their adaptation to the circumstances of the case, that he was quite eloquent.