11. “Why not, my child?” she asked, in her kindest and most soothing tones. “Is it not the very place to talk of them? Has Alfred forgotten the cold little stable of Bethlehem, and the poor, comfortless home of Egypt? No, no, Alfred, poverty itself can never exclude[39] us from heaven. One single sin may forever close its gates, but, let us be ever so poor and wretched, we still have just as great a claim to heaven as the richest; perhaps even greater; remember Lazarus.”
11. Clasping her thin hands, while a smile played over her worn features, she continued:
“It may come upon us—poverty may—with such crushing force that we will have to lie down and die; but then it will be our path to heaven, our road home. Home! Oh, Alfred, what comfort in that word! There we will meet father, mother, sisters, brothers, and all will be joy and happiness. Every tear will be wiped away, and all the sorrow and wretchedness of the way-side forgotten. Yes, Alfred, from this very room, so poor and cold, we may go to a home all beautiful and bright.” With a hurried hand she resumed her sewing. Alfred was silent, but the cloud had passed from his brow.
[32] Di-lapˊ-i-dated, gone to ruin, decayed.
[33] Prox-imˊ-ity, nearness.
[34] Dis-en-gage, to free, to release.
[35] Viˊ-tal, necessary to life.
[36] Tu-multˊ-uous, with wild commotion.
[37] Murˊ-mur, to grumble, to complain.