" "In peace we bloom, in discord we consume." The inkstand was
for Mr. and Mrs. Parker, and the slip of paper said it was from their
grateful friend, Joe White. That was the secret. Emilie had kept it
well; they rather laughed at her for not translating the motto, but no
matter, she had taught them all a German phrase by the mistake.
Where was she gone? she had slipped away from the merry party, and was
by Joe's couch. Joe's heart was very full, full with the newly-awakened
sense that he loved and that he was loved; full of earnest resolves to
become less selfish, less thankless, less irritable. He knew his lot
now, knew all that lay before him, the privations, the restrictions, the
weakness, and the sufferings. He knew that he could never hope again to
share in the many joys of boyhood and youth; that he must lay aside his
cricket ball, his hoop, his kite, in short all his active amusements,
and consign himself to the couch through the winter, spring, summer,
autumn, and winter again. He felt this very bitterly; and when all the
gifts were lavished upon him, he thought, "Oh, for my health and
strength again, and I would gladly give up _all_ these gifts, nay, I
would joyfully be a beggar.
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