Stephen Grattans Faith | Page 8

If the things don't come to-night, I shall go myself to the village to-morrow, to see what has become of them. At any rate, we must not fret mother about it. It will be all right to-morrow, you may be sure."
She made quite merry over little Will's fears that the things might never come, and that they all might starve, as sometimes children did in books. She laughed at him, and made him laugh at himself. But, though Sophy spoke hopefully to her brothers, she had her own troubled thoughts to struggle with still. That was a long, long night to her, and to her mother too. Though Mrs Morely did not know how nearly they were at the end of their stores, she knew they could not last long; and the thought would come back, What if there was nothing awaiting them in the village? What if her husband had fallen again? She could not hope for immediate help from him, even if he were to hold firm after his arrival in Montreal and get immediate employment. How were the next few weeks to be got through? She thought and planned, till she grew weary and discouraged; but she never quite let go of the hope that had come to her through the children's reading in the afternoon. He who had cast out devils, He who had raised the dead, could He not also save her husband? He who had been merciful to the poor woman who trusted in Him, would He not be merciful to her? Was not His love unchanged, and were not His promises the same yesterday, and to-day, and for ever? She clung to the thoughts of the wonderful works of Jesus, going over and over them in her mind, turning the poor woman's words into prayer to suit her own case; and so the night wore away.
Sophy slept now and then; but she might just as well have kept awake, for in her dreams she fancied she was lost in the snow, and that she was struggling on through it with the baby in her arms. The night seemed as long as a whole winter to her, she told her mother afterwards; but it came to an end at last.
The first thing that Mrs Morely saw, on waking from a momentary slumber, was her little daughter taking a coverlet from the bed to fasten it over the low window. She must have fallen asleep again; for the next thing she saw was Sophy standing by her bed, with a cup of tea and a bit of toast in her hand. There was a small, bright fire on the hearth; but there was no other light in the room. It seemed early to her; but the children were all awake, and clamouring to be allowed to rise, notwithstanding their sister's entreaties that they would lie still till the room was warm. But little Harry was cold and hungry, and would not be persuaded; and at last he made a rush towards his mother's bed. In passing the window he caught hold of the coverlet that hung over it; and down it fell, and the bright sunlight streamed in. A cry of surprise, which soon changed to indignation, burst from the children.
"Mother," exclaimed Sophy, entreatingly, "I did it to keep out the cold, and to make the day seem shorter."
"But, dreary as the days are, surely the nights are drearier," said her mother, wonderingly.
"Yes, mother; I know--but--" She paused. What could she say, but that she wished to keep the children asleep, because there was so little to give them when they awoke? She saw from her mother's face that she understood her reason, and she hastened to say, "I must go to the village, mother. It is no use waiting any longer. I ought to have gone yesterday. They have forgotten to send the things--or my father has forgotten to get them," she added to herself, with a sense of pain and shame.
"I ought to have gone yesterday, mother," repeated Sophy, "but I was afraid of losing my way in the snow. I was foolish, I know, but I could not help thinking of the little lad you told us about once, who never came back."
"We must do something," said her mother; "and I am afraid it would be impossible for me to go to the village myself. Surely the road must be opened by this time. Is it still as cold, do you think? You must take John with you. Two are better than one."
"No; it is not so cold, I think," said Sophy. "And, dear mother, you are not to fret. We can go easily, and it will all come right, you'll see." And Sophy made a great pretence of hastening the dressing