“Is Sir J. C——­ gone, Ma’am?”

“Yes, he has been gone some minutes.”

“What does he say?” asked the lad earnestly.  “He said very little to me, nothing indeed, only all that fudge I am always hearing—­’rest, patience,’ and so on.”

“He thinks it a very serious case, my dear; he says that the recumbent posture is very important.”

“But for how long, Ma’am?  I would lie twelve months patiently enough if I hoped then to be allowed to walk about, and to be able to do as other boys do.”

“Sir J. C——­ thinks, Joe, that you never will recover.  I am grieved to tell you so, but it is the truth, and we think it best you should know it.  Your spine is so injured that it is impossible you should ever recover; but you may have many enjoyments, though not able to be active like other boys.  You must keep up your spirits; it is the will of God and you must submit.”

Poor Mrs. Parker having disburdened her mind of a great load, and performed her dreaded task, left the room, telling her husband that the boy bore it very well, indeed, he did not seem to feel it much.  The bell being already out for church, she called the young people to accompany her thither, leaving one maid-servant and the errand boy at home, and poor Joe to meditate on his newly-acquired information that he would be a cripple for life.  Edith looked in and asked softly, “shall I stay?” but the “No” was so very decided, and so very stern that she did not repeat the question, so they all went off together, a cheerful family party.

The errand boy betook himself to a chair in the kitchen, where he was soon sound asleep, and the maid-servant to the back gate to gossip with a sailor; so Joe was left alone with a hand-bell on the table, plenty of books if he liked to read them, and as far as outward comforts went with nothing to complain of.  “And here I am a cripple for life,” ejaculated the poor fellow, when the sound of their voices died away and the bell ceased; “and, oh, may that life be a short one!  I wish, oh, I wish, I were dead! who would care to hear this? no one—­I wish from my heart I were dead;” and here the boy sobbed till his poor weak frame was convulsed with agony, and he felt as if his heart (for he had a heart) would break.

In his wretchedness he longed for affection, he longed for some one who would really care for him, “but no one cares for me,” groaned the lad, “no one, and I wish I might die to night.”  Ah, Joe, may God change you very much before he grants that wish!  After he had sobbed a while, he began to think more calmly, but his thoughts were thoughts of revenge and hatred. “John has been the cause of it all.”  Then he thought again, “they may well make all this fuss over me, when their son caused all my misery; let them do what they will they will never make it up to me, but they only tolerate me I can see, I know I am in the way; they don’t ask me here because they care for me, not they, it’s only out of pity;” and here, rolling his head from side to side, sobbed and cried afresh.  “What would I give for some one to love me, for some one to wait on me because they loved me! but here I am to lie all my life, a helpless, hopeless, cripple; oh dear! oh dear! my heart will break.  Those horrid bells! will they never have done?”