John had shut himself in his
room, and the grandmother went about her household duties silently
weeping and trying to put down the angry thoughts which would arise
whenever she remembered how stubbornly her daughter-in-law had refused
to leave Martha with her, and make her trip to London alone. She knew
it was "well with the child," but Oh the bitter strength of regrets
that strain and sicken,
Yearning for love that the veil of Death endears.
Jane sat silent, tearless, almost motionless beside her dead daughter.
Now and then John came and tried to comfort the wretched woman, but in
her deepest grief, there was a tender motherly strain which he had not
thought of and knew not how to answer. "Her little feet! Her little
feet, John! I never let them wander alone or stray even in Hatton
streets without a helper and guide. O John, what hand will lead them
upward and back to God? Those little feet!"
"Her angel would be with her and she would know the way through the
constellations. Together they would pass swift as thought from earth to
heaven.
Pages:
340
341
342
343
344
345
346
347
348
349
350
351
352
353
354
355
356
357
358
359
360
361
362
363
364