and the beautiful summer came,
and Jacob Dobbin was able to sit at his cottage door, breathing in the
pure country air, and admiring what was to him the loveliest object in
nature--namely, one rich, swelling bud upon his moss-rose tree. There
was but one bud this year upon the tree,--the frosts and keen spring
winds had nipped all the rest; and this one was now bursting into
beauty; and it was doubly dear to Jacob, because it was left alone.
Jacob passed much of his time at the cottage door, dividing his
admiration between the one moss-rose and the beautiful white fleecy
clouds, which used to sail in majestic grandeur over his head; and often
he used to be day-dreaming for hours, about the white robes of all who
suffered for their Lord.

While thus engaged one day, the young squire came running along, and his
eye fell upon Jacob's rose. "Hallo," cried he with delight--"a
moss-rose! Ha, ha!--the gardener said we had not even one blown in our
garden; but here's a rare beauty!" and in a moment James Courtenay had
bounded over the little garden gate, and stood beside the rose bush. In
another instant his knife was out of his pocket, and his hand was
approaching the tree.

"Stop, stop!" cried Jacob Dobbin; "pray don't cut it,--'tis our only
rose; I've watched it I don't know how long; and 'tisn't quite come out
yet,"--and Jacob made an effort to get from his seat to the tree; but
before the poor little cripple could well rise from his seat, the young
squire's knife was through the stem, and with a loud laugh he jumped
over the little garden fence, and was soon lost to sight.

The excitement of this scene had a lamentable effect upon poor Jacob
Dobbin. When he found his one moss-rose gone, he burst into a violent
fit of sobbing, and soon a quantity of blood began to pour from his
mouth--he had broken a blood-vessel; and a neighbour, passing that way a
little time after, found him lying senseless upon the ground. The
neighbouring doctor was sent for, and he gave it as his opinion that
Jacob could never get over this attack. "Had it been an ordinary case,"
said the doctor, "I should not have apprehended a fatal result; but
under present circumstances I fear the very worst; poor Jacob has not
strength to bear up against this loss of blood."

For many days Jacob Dobbin lay in a darkened room, and many were the
thoughts of the other world which came into his mind; amongst them were
some connected with the holy martyrs. "Father