And in after-years, when suffering or trial
come over you, and when your thoughts fly as to a refuge to that
shattered home, you will recall that stooping image of the
father,--with his head bowed, and from time to time trembling
convulsively with grief,--and feel that there remains yet by the
household fires a heart of kindred love and of kindred sorrow!
Nelly steals away from you gently, and stepping across the room, lays
her hand upon his shoulder with a touch that says, as plainly as words
could say it,--"We are here, father!"
And he rouses himself,--passes his arm around her,--looks in her face
fondly,--draws her to him, and prints a kiss upon her forehead.
"Nelly, we must love each other now more than ever."
Nelly's lips tremble, but she cannot answer; a tear or two go stealing
down her cheek.
You approach them; and your father takes your hand again with a firm
grasp,--looks at you thoughtfully,--drops his eyes upon the fire, and
for a moment there is a pause;--"We are quite alone now, my boy!"
----It is a Broken Home!
VI.
_Family Confidence._
Grief has a strange power in opening the hearts of those who sorrow in
common.
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