"No," answered the old man, solemnly, "or we should not have been left behind. It is not for nothing, wife, that you and I, and her child too, have starved and pined, and prayed in this cellar. God has an end to accomplish, and we are His instruments; how, I cannot tell. It is dark, as yet; but all in His good time, His work will be done. Let us be patient."
"Patient!" said the old woman, dolefully; "I haven't strength to be anything but patient."
"She will yet return to us—our beautiful prodigal—our lost child," continued the old man, lifting his meek eyes heavenward. "We have waited long; but the time will come."
"If I could only think so," said the woman, shaking her head drearily—"If I could but think so!"
"I know it," said the old man, lifting his clasped hands upward, while his face glowed with the holy faith that was in him; "God has filled my soul with this belief. It has given me life when food was wanting. It grows stronger with each breath that I draw. The time will come when I shall be called to redeem our child, even to the laying down of life, it may be. I sometimes had a thought, wife, that her regeneration will be thus accomplished."
"How? What do you mean to say, husband?"
"How, I cannot tell that; but the God of heaven will, in His own good time. Let us wait and watch."
"Oh! if she comes at last, I could be so patient! But think of the years that are gone, and no news, not a word. While we have suffered so much, every month, more and more—ah, husband, how can I be patient?"
"Wait," said the old man, solemnly; "keep still while God does his work. We know that our child has committed a great sin; but she was good once, and—"
"Oh, how kind, how good she was! I think she was more like an angel than any thing on earth, till he came."