The Old Worcester Jug by Eglanton Thorne

THE doctor found John Griffin even worse than Maggie's words had led him to expect. The old man lay with flushed, anxious face, breathing heavily, each breath costing him severe pain. Dr. Thornton spoke kindly and soothingly to him, and stayed long beside his bed, doing all he could to relieve his sufferings. Ere he left, his patient seemed a little easier, but nevertheless Dr. Thornton went away with the conviction that old Griffin would not struggle through this attack as he had through the former one.

And now, as in that other illness, John Griffin had a burden of sin upon his mind, which he pondered in hours of pain and sleeplessness. Again he resolved that with returning health he would take an early opportunity of setting right the wrong he had done.

But several days passed, and he grew no better.

Fresh symptoms and complications presented themselves, baffling the doctor's skill. He came every day to see the old man, and did his utmost for him; but, after a while, his visits became shorter and shorter, and Mrs. Griffin wondered at the change she observed in the doctor's appearance. It struck her that he was looking almost as ill as his patient, and his manner had grown so quiet, that he scarce said an unnecessary word.

Even Maggie felt the change in him, and shrank back in awe at the sight of his grave, pale face. He never stopped to speak to her now before leaving the house; he did not even pat her on the head if he met her on the stairs.

He came into the house, examined his patient, prescribed for him, and then took his departure with an automaton-like precision. What could have wrought such a change in the kind-hearted, genial doctor?

Ere long, an acquaintance coming in to inquire for the invalid, gave Mrs. Griffin a sufficient explanation. "Have you heard? " she asked. "That Dr. Thornton's wife is very ill, and not expected to live? They say she caught cold at a ball, and has got inflammation of the lungs. Won't it be sad if he loses her? For they haven't been married a year yet."

When Mrs. Griffin knew this, she could no longer wonder at the doctor's grave, silent demeanour. She thought that it was very good of him to come every day to see Griffin, and do so much for him, whilst he was in sore trouble about his dear young wife.

Little Maggie was very grieved to hear the news. She could not bear to think that the "pretty lady," whose visit to the shop had given her such delight, and who had looked so lovely when she saw her in her own home, should be ill. She prayed every day that God would soon make her grandfather well; now she added to her prayer a similar request concerning the "pretty lady."

At last, one day, Dr. Thornton came to the house looking quite a different man. He entered with a light, quick step; and his face, though still pale and worn, had a bright and happy expression.

Maggie peeped out of the shop at the sound of his entrance, and seeing this change in his appearance, the child ventured to address him.

"Good-morning, Dr. Thornton," she said; "is your wife better?"

"Yes, thank you, Maggie; she is very much better, I am thankful to say," he replied, with a bright smile; "I hope she will soon recover now. " And in his gratitude for the child's sympathy, he stooped and gave her a kiss.

"I'm very glad to hear that," said Maggie, smiling; "do you think my grandfather will soon get better too?"

The doctor's look changed. "I don't know, I hope so," he said, and went hurriedly upstairs.

As he entered the sick room, the doctor saw a great change in old Griffin's appearance. He knew then that there would be no getting better for his patient. The end was drawing near.

The old man was sleeping, and Dr. Thornton would not have him roused. Perhaps in this deep sleep, which seemed so restful, he would pass away.

Dr. Thornton beckoned Mrs. Griffin from the room, and tried to prepare her for what might soon happen. She had long felt that thus it would be, yet her grief, when told that all hope was at an end, was bitter indeed. Her sorrow touched Dr. Thornton keenly, contrasting as it did with his own joyous relief from fear and anxiety.

But though she broke down utterly at first, Mrs. Griffin soon recovered herself, and put her grief aside for the sake of the loved sufferer. She went back with a calm though sorrow-stricken face to take her place beside her husband's bed.

Presently little Maggie stole into the room, and sat down on the other side of the bed. She had often sat there during old Griffin's illness. He liked to know that his "little maid" was near him. Sometimes, when he felt a little better, she had read to him from her mother's Bible, or sung him the hymn which he liked so well to hear.