John lifted a startled face to the speaker, and the man added with an air of happy triumph, as he walked away,
"
For a moment John rested his head on his hand, then he lifted his face and with level brows fronted the grief he must learn to bear.
Jane's sorrow was a far more severe and constant one. Martha had been part of all her employments. She could do nothing and go nowhere, but the act and the place were steeped in memories of the child. All her work, all her way, all her thoughts, began and ended with Martha. She fell into a dangerous condition of self-immolation. She complained that no one cared for her, that her suffering was uniquely great, and that she alone was the only soul who remembered the dead and loved them.
Mrs. Stephen came from her retreat in Hatton Hall one day in order to combat this illusion.
"Three mothers living in Hatton village hev buried children this week, Jane," she said. "Two of them went back to the mill this morning."
"I think it was very wicked of them."
"They hed to go back. They had living children to work for. When the living cling to you, then you must put the dead aside for the living. God cares for the dead and they hev all they want in His care. If you feel that you must fret youself useless to either living or dead, try the living. They'll mostly give you every reason for fretting."
"John has quite forgotten poor little Martha."