After the great tribulation of those days Stephen fell into a long and severe illness.  For many weeks he was delirious and unconscious, neither knowing what he said nor who was taking care of him.  When Miss Anne sat beside him, soothing him, as she sometimes could do, with singing, he would talk of being in heaven, and listening to little Nan among the angels.  Bess shared many of Martha’s weary hours of watching:  and so deeply had the child’s death affected them, that now all their thoughts and talk were about the things that Miss Anne diligently taught them concerning Jesus and His salvation.  It was not much they knew; but as in former times a very small subject was sufficient for a long gossip, so now the little knowledge of the Scriptures that was lodged in either of their minds became the theme of fluent, if not very learned conversation.  Sometimes Stephen, as if their words caught some floating memory, would murmur out a verse or two in his delirious ramblings, or sing part of a hymn.  Tim, also, who came for an hour or two every evening, was always ready to read the few chapters he had learned, and to give the girls his interpretation of them.

There was no pressing want in the little household, though their bread-winner was unable to work.  The miners made up Stephen’s wages among themselves at every reckoning, for Stephen had won their sincere respect, though they had often been tempted to ill-treat him.  Miss Anne came every day with dainties from the master’s house, without meeting with any reproof or opposition, though the name of Stephen Fern never crossed Mr. Wyley’s lips.  Still he used to listen attentively whenever the doctor called upon Miss Anne, to give her his opinion how the poor boy was going on.

When Stephen was recovering, his mind was too weak for any of the violent passions that had preceded his illness.  Moreover, the bounty of his comrades, and the humble kindness of Martha and Bess, came like healing to his soul; for very often the tenderness of others will seem to atone for the injuries of our enemies, and at least soften our vehement desire for revenge.  Yet, in a quiet, listless sort of way, Stephen still longed for God to prove His wrath against the master’s wrong-doing.  It appeared so strange to hear that all this time nothing had befallen him, that he was still strong and healthy, and becoming more and more wealthy every day.  Like Asaph, the psalmist, when he considered the prosperity of the wicked, Stephen was inclined to say, ’How doth God know? and is there knowledge with the Most High?  Behold, these are the ungodly that prosper in the earth; they increase in riches.  Verily I have cleansed my heart in vain, and washed my hands in innocency.  For all the day long have I been plagued, and chastened every morning.’

‘Why does God let these things be?’ he inquired of Miss Anne one day, after he was well enough to rise from his bed and sit by the fire.  He was very white and thin, and his eyes looked large and shining in their sunken sockets; but they gazed earnestly into his teacher’s face, as if he was craving to have this difficulty solved.