CHAPTER XXVII. A BRAVE EFFORT.

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H! why should this be—why should this be?" groaned Dick, as soon as he found himself alone; "why should I, the genius of the family, suddenly find myself reduced to the state of the veriest dunce? Why should one wretched accident take from me more than Matty lost by Forgetfulness, or Lubin by Procrastination? Why should I have a cottage so ruined and empty—I who had made its furniture my glory—I who had worked so hard and so well?"

It is a wise thing for those in trouble to try and search for the reason of their trials. No sorrow is sent without a cause. Dick sat long with his brow leaning on his hand, thinking, and thinking, and seeking as well as his poor, languid mind would let him, to trace out his past career.

Why had he worked so hard—why had he worked so well? Was it indeed for the sake of his mother, or from regard to Mr. Learning, or because he had been taught by Duty in all things to do his best? Dick looked round upon Nelly's little room; every article there reminded him of patient perseverance, of steady application, not because labour had been easy and pleasant, but because she had felt it to be right. Dick, who was a very intelligent boy, could not but see, now that reflection was forced upon him, that he had spent his hours and furnished his cottage only to please and enrich himself, to triumph over his brother and sisters, to gain the silver crown of Success, and to gratify evil Pride! Yes, Pride had urged him to every effort: Pride had made him resolve that no cottage should be as splendidly furnished as his own; Pride had dogged his steps, directed his labours, had introduced him to mischievous Folly, and, worst of all, had made him look down on his best friends and nearest relations, and insult his gentle little sister! Ah! this was the bitterest reflection of all!

"How Pride used to make me laugh at the laziness of Lubin, the vanity of Matty, the lameness of my dear little Nelly, though that was no fault of her own. I remember now but too well that it was through him that I insulted the sister whose talents might be less than mine, but whose virtues should have been my example. It was Pride who made me ashamed to ask forgiveness, or express regret for words as unjust as they were unkind. Yes, this sore trial must have been sent to warn me that he who takes Pride as his bosom companion will sooner or later repent of having done so. What Pride can offer is but a sorry exchange for the peace, the harmony, the love which it seems his delight to destroy! Was it Pride who nursed me through my illness? Was it Pride who so gently bore with my wayward humours; who prepared the cooling draught for my fevered lips, and never seemed weary of watching beside me all through the long dreary night? O Nelly, not one word of reproach did I ever hear from your tongue; but my heart reproaches me the more for having mocked at your tender counsels, given way to impatient temper, and thrown away your love as a worthless thing at the bidding of haughty Pride!"

"Did I not hear my own name?" said a voice at the door, and the beams of the setting sun threw a dark shadow across the threshold. The next moment Pride would have entered, but Dick waved him back with a gesture of command.

"What—do you not know your old friend?" cried Pride.

"I know my old tempter," said the boy, with emotion. "Pride, I have lately suffered much, but I have not suffered in vain; I have lost much, but I have gained something also—a knowledge of myself, and of you! Here let us part, and for ever."

"This is some delusion of a fevered brain!" cried Pride, beginning to look very angry.

"No, my fever has passed away, and with it all my vain delusions. To think myself superior to all others was a delusion; to think that Pride would make me happy was a delusion: to think that a well-furnished head could make up for a haughty and selfish heart, that was the worst delusion of all!"

Pride still lingered, unwilling to depart, or to give up one whom he had so long regarded as his slave; but the sound of footsteps was now heard, and Lubin and Nelly appeared at the door. The little girl cast an uneasy, frightened glance at Pride, who scowled darkly on her in return. But Duty and Affection, the beautiful sisters, were accompanying the children to their home, and Pride, bold as he was, shrank back abashed at their calm, majestic presence.

Dick, though languid and weak, nerved himself now for a great and painful effort. He had never been accustomed to own himself wrong, and the thought of doing so, not privately but openly, in the presence of so many witnesses, brought the warm blood to his pallid cheek, and made his heart throb with excitement. But he knew no better way of proving to Pride that his empire indeed was over; no better way of making amends to Nelly for past unkindness and scorn. Raising himself, therefore, and supporting his weak frame by grasping the table beside him, he uttered these words, in a clear and distinct, though somewhat tremulous tone:—"Nelly, before all, I ask your forgiveness for past unkind and foolish conduct, and thank you for the tender care which I have so little deserved; and I also ask Lubin's pardon"—here Dick turned towards his brother—"for having often provoked him by rude and mocking words."

Nelly's only reply was running forward and throwing her arms around Dick; Lubin warmly grasped his hand; Pride, grinding his teeth with suppressed fury, glared for a moment at the three, then, turning round with something like a yell, rushed away from the spot. Let us hope that he never returned!

"Well done, nobly done, brave boy!" exclaimed Duty, coming forward, the red rays of the setting sun streaming upon her glorious figure, and her face, which was bright with loveliness exceeding all mortal beauty. It was the first time that the wounded boy had ever received her praise; and how sweet fell its accents from her lips, those lips that falsehood never had stained! "We were coming to see you," said gentle Affection, "and met these our young friends on the way."

"Coming to see me!" cried the invalid; "poor, helpless, ruined sufferer that I am!"

"Nay," said Affection, with a beaming smile, "speak not so gloomily of your state. I bring you the refreshing draught of Hope, to revive your spirits and restore your strength!"

As Affection spoke she poured out from a phial into a glass a sparkling effervescing liquid. Dick took it eagerly from her hand, and as he drank it as if drinking in life, Affection continued thus to address him:—"You will soon recover from the effects of your accident, and be able with new vigour and energy to refurnish your own little cottage. You will easily make up for lost time; indeed, the loss which you have sustained is not so great as has been represented. Look with a hopeful eye on the future, with a thankful eye on the past; he cannot be very ignorant who is instructed by Duty, nor very poor who has at his command all the treasures of Affection!"

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