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"HARRY ARNOLD."
"The dear boy!" said Euphra, with a gush of pure and grateful
affection; "I will go and see him."
Harry had begun to work with his masters, and was doing his best,
which was very good. If his heart was not so much in it as when he
was studying with his big brother, he gained a great benefit from
the increase of exercise to his will, in the doing of what was less
pleasant. Ever since Hugh had given his faculties a right
direction, and aided him by healthful manly sympathy, he had been
making up for the period during which childhood had been protracted
into boyhood; and now he was making rapid progress.
When Euphra arrived, Harry rushed to the hall to meet her. She took
him in her arms, and burst into tears. Her tears drew forth his.
He stroked her pale face, and said:
"Dear Euphra, how ill you look!"
"I shall soon be better now, Harry."
"I was afraid you did not love me, Euphra; but now I am sure you
do."
"Indeed I do. I am very sorry for everything that made you think I
did not love you."
"No, no. It was all my fancy. Now we shall be very happy."
And so Harry was. And Euphra, through means of Harry, began to gain
a little of what is better than most kinds of happiness, because it
is nearest to the best happiness -- I mean peace. This foretaste of
rest came to her from the devotedness with which she now applied
herself to aid the intellect, which she had unconsciously repressed
and stunted before. She took Harry's books when he had gone to bed;
and read over all his lessons, that she might be able to assist him
in preparing them; venturing thus into some regions of labour into
which ladies are too seldom conducted by those who instruct them.
This produced in her quite new experiences. One of these was, that
in proportion as she laboured for Harry, hope grew for herself. It
was likewise of the greatest immediate benefit that the intervals of
thought, instead of lying vacant to melancholy, or the vapours that
sprung from the foregoing strife of the spiritual elements, should
be occupied by healthy mental exercise.
Still, however, she was subject to great vicissitudes of feeling. A
kind of peevishness, to which she had formerly been a stranger, was
but too ready to appear, even when she was most anxious, in her
converse with Harry, to behave well to him. But the pure
forgiveness of the boy was wonderful. Instead of plaguing himself
to find out the cause of her behaviour, or resenting it in the
least, he only laboured, by increased attention and submission, to
remove it; and seemed perfectly satisfied when it was followed by a
kind word, which to him was repentance, apology, amends, and
betterment, all in one. When he had thus driven away the evil
spirit, there was Euphra her own self. So perfectly did she see,
and so thoroughly appreciate this kindness and love of Harry, that
he began to look to her like an angel of forgiveness come to live a
boy's life, that he might do an angel's work.
Her health continued very poor. She suffered constantly from more
or less headache, and at times from faintings. But she had not for
some time discovered any signs of somnambulism.
Of this peculiarity her friends were entirely ignorant. The
occasions, indeed, on which it had manifested itself to an excessive
degree, had been but few.
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