Eben
had died; and the church--strange how long and longer still the walk to
the church had grown each time she had walked it this last year! After
all, perhaps it did not matter; there were new faces at the church, and
young, strong hands that did not falter and tremble over these new ways
of doing things. For a time there had been only the house that needed
her--but how great that need had been! There were the rooms to care for,
there was the linen to air, there were the dear treasures of picture and
toy to cry and laugh over; and outside there were the roses to train and
the pansies to pick.
Now, even the house was not left. It was October, and son John had told
her that winter was coming on and she must not remain alone. He had
brought her to his own great house and placed her in these beautiful
rooms--indeed, son John was most kind to her! If only she could make
some return, do something, be of some use!
Her heart failed her as she thought of the grave-faced, preoccupied man
who came each morning into the room with the question, "Well, mother, is
there anything you need to-day?" What possible service could
sherender
him? Her heart failed her again as she thought of John's
pretty, new wife, and of the two big boys, men grown, sons of dear dead
Molly.
Pages:
185
186
187
188
189
190
191
192
193
194
195
196
197
198
199
200
201
202
203
204
205
206
207
208
209