Australian Tales - Setis

night we watched him with that anxious interest which none but fond
parents know. Gradually he sank under the wasting influence of fever,
which no human skill could allay. His round rosy cheeks became pale
and sunken, his plump little limbs were wasted and shrivelled. The merry
laughter, which had sounded like the music of spring birds in our home,
gave place to a low piteous whine, and the smiles on his pretty dimpled
face were changed to the sharp wince of suffering, which racked our
hearts to witness. Our house was silent as a sepulchre, for all the servants
were fond of little Charlie, and sadness beclouded each face as the doctor
went away day after day without saying a word to encourage a ray of
hope of the recovery of our loved one. I need not tell you, sir, that I often
prayed to God to spare my boy, and my dear wife prayed too. But I did
not ask unreservedly for the life of my child; to my earnest pleadings for
him I always added the condition, ‘Lord, Thou knowest what is best:
help me to say, Thy will be done.’ Still I felt it very, very hard to say,
‘Take my boy, Lord, if Thou seest it best to do so.’ Oh how difficult it is,
sir, to see wisdom and mercy in such a dispensation, while our spirits are
crushed down by the afflictive stroke.
“One afternoon there was an apparent improvement in him, and hope
revived in our hearts. Our darling's eyes looked brighter, there was a
slight colour in his cheeks, and he smiled while he faintly lisped our
names. How carefully Nanny and I watched him that evening, and how
we cheered each other with the promise of his recovery. How we
admired his pretty sleeping form, with the curly locks clustering about
his noble brow. How we sat and drew bright pictures of our future
happiness in training him up to manhood. But all those hopes were
suddenly blighted, and the pride of our eyes faded before us like the
ephemeral tints of a rainbow. About midnight an unmistakable change
stole over our beloved child's features, and while we stood beside his cot
gazing on him with streaming eyes, his gentle spirit soared away home.
Oh, sir! what a crushing blow that was to us. But you have experienced a
similar loss, so you understand it. May God comfort all those who are
now mourning as Nanny and I mourned on that memorable night of
death.
“The loss of that dear child was an intense grief to us for several
months; but time softens down our heaviest sorrows, and we tried our
best to bear our trial with resignation. Dear Nanny gathered up all
Charlie's clothes and toys, and everything that had belonged to him, and
locked them in a separate drawer of her wardrobe. Nothing that could
recall the memory of the dear little fellow was to be seen, and we rarely
ventured to speak of him for several weeks. It is marvellous though how
small a thing will suddenly re-open the springs of sorrow, when we think
they are almost dried up, as the following little incident will show. One
evening I was searching in my study for a document which I had mislaid,