"Has he listened to our words of admonition and warning at home?"
asked the Squire, with a strange look in his glazing eyes. "Nay,
wife, I feel as I lie here dying, that the life of the soul is
something we poor frail human creatures must not try too much to
touch. The Spirit of God will work in His own time. We may pray and
weep and plead before God for an erring son, and we believe our
prayers will be answered; but it will be in His time, not in our
own. And time and place are no barriers with Him. He will do for
Tom, I will not doubt it, what we have failed to do with all our
pains and care."
The mother wept silently--for the husband whose life was ebbing
away; for the son over whose heart she seemed to have so little
control; for herself, soon to be left alone in the world, with only
her daughter for her prop and stay. She was not a weak or helpless
creature. She had been in her husband's confidence, and had been
his helpmeet throughout their married life. She was well able to
carry on single-handed the course of action he had pursued through
his long rule at Gablehurst; yet not the less for this did she feel
the desolation of her approaching widowhood; and it seemed an
additional sorrow (although she recognized its necessity) that Tom
was also to be taken from her.
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