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She broke down, sobbing.
Oh nursie ! my Eddy! my own Eddy! Let me die, and go to him!'
Violet was very ill after this. For some weeks she hung between life and death. All her cry was—
'Eddy! Eddy! my own Eddy!'
She got better slowly. Life seemed to her very sad without Eddy, who had been so much to her in every way. No one could brighten her up. She thought she never could be quite happy again, until the day came for her to die and go to him.
The day when she was, for the first time, carried out again into the garden, she lay sad and silent on the sofa. Nurse carried her there, for papa was in town, and mamma was ill in bed. The fatigue of nursing Violet, and sorrow for the loss of her dear boy, had broken her down at last.
Cheer up, my darling,' said nurse, as she laid Violet down and put the shawl over her feet. • There's Miss Alice going to read you a pretty story, like an angel as she is. She's coming out directly. Cheer up now, and do ye let your old nursie see a smile once more !
The tears filled Violet's eyes.
I can't help it, nursie,' she said wearily. 'For your dear mamma's sake you should try, my pet,' said nurse. • Think of her sorrow, it is greater than yours. And how sweet and patient she
is. Try to be a comfort to her. He would have wished it. He was so unselfish always, the dear!'
'I know, nursie, I know,' said Violet. “I will try.'
“That's my own Miss Bud,' said nurse. And she kissed the little pale wistful face, paler and more wistful than ever now.
Violet was left alone thinking. Had she been selfish in her grief for Edmund ? It seemed hard to call it that. It was natural she should feel his loss very, very much. It made such a difference in her life. It was almost too bitter to think of sometimes. But was it bitter only to her ? Was it not as great a sorrow, and greater, to her poor mamma and papa ? She had been thinking only of herself. She had fancied that all the trouble was hers. And so, wrapped up in her own sorrow, she was growing selfish ; yes, selfish ; that very thing which she hated, which was so unlike her dear Eddy. She made up her mind that she would try to be more cheerful, and to be a comfort to her dear mamma, whose sadness was made more sad by the sight of Violet's grief—she would begin to-day. It was what Eddy would have wished.
* Dear, dear Eddy!' she murmured, half aloud. 'You were such a precious—! Why does not Alice come? She is a long time finding a story-book.' As Violet thought this, she heard a step flying along the gravel path, and in another minute Alice,
pale and breathless, had seized both of Violet's hands.
Bud! dear Bud!' she exclaimed, and then burst out crying
•What is the matter ?' asked Violet.
Oh, Bud, I'm afraid you can't bear it! It's too joyful !' sobbed Alice.
And you crying! What do you mean?' cried Violet. “Tell me, tell me!'
“Eddy!' was all Alice could gasp out. 'He's alive, and'
'Here,' said a loving voice, which Violet knew only too well; and in another minute she had fainted in Eddy's arms.
It was Eddy indeed. But how, and from where ?
These were the questions which Baby Bud asked that evening as she lay with her tiny hand fast locked in Eddy's, looking like a Rose Bud now, instead of a *White Violet.' Her face was beaming with happiness, as were all the bright faces round her. Mamma had become suddenly quite well-- with joy, said Violet, and was down with them again.
*Well, it was very wonderful,' Eddy said. He had floated out to sea, and had been picked up insensible, by a small boat belonging to a merchant ship on her way to America. The captain had been very kind to him, but could not turn out of his course to put him on shore, as he had already been detained long over his time. He promised to send Edmund home by another ship as soon as he reached New York. Edmund was very ill, however, and had a fever, which kept him in New York for two or three weeks. He had been insensible many days, and not able to write ; and the first day he was able to leave his bed he had embarked on board a ship for England, the good captain paying all his expenses.
And here he was again, at home among his dear ones. What words can tell their happiness! How papa and mamma sat looking at their Edmund! How the children crowded round him, eager to caress, and even touch him! And how Baby Bud clung to him! How very happy she was !
‘Bud, darling,' whispered Edmund, as he carried her up to bed, ‘let us pray for each other that every day of our lives may bring us nearer and nearer to God!")