The
strangers, though they knew not the cause of her grief, were deeply
affected; and Ellen approached the mourner with words of comfort, which,
more from their tone than their meaning, produced a transient effect.
"Do you bring news of him?" she inquired, raising her head. "Will he
return to me? Shall I see him before I die?" Ellen knew not what to
answer; and, ere she could attempt it, the other female prevented her.
"Sister Butler is wandering in her mind," she said, "and speaks of one she
will never behold again. The sight of strangers disturbs her, and you see
we have nothing here to offer you."
The manner of the woman was ungracious; but her words were true. They saw
that their presence could do nothing towards the alleviation of the misery
they witnessed; and they felt that mere curiosity would not authorize a
longer intrusion. So soon, therefore, as they had relieved, according to
their power, the poverty that seemed to be the least evil of this cottage,
they emerged into the open air.
The breath of heaven felt sweet to them, and removed a part of the weight
from their young hearts, which were saddened by the sight of so much
wretchedness. Perceiving a pure and bright little fountain at a short
distance from the cottage, they approached it, and, using the bark of a
birch-tree as a cup, partook of its cool waters.
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