Here Mrs. Meridith ended her narrative, and the swoln eyes of her auditors gave a proof that they had been attentive to it. Their silence also was far more eloquent, in her opinion, than all the professions they could have made. Each looked at her with pity and admiration; and Anna thought she could never do enough, or be sufficiently attentive to such an excellent woman, who had encountered so many sorrows, and had been so good to her.
Supper was now brought in, but neither of the party could eat any, and they tried in vain to obliterate from Mrs. Meridith's mind the recollection of what she had related; the retrospection of her many trials had been too much for her, and she remained absorbed in silent grief. After her uncle and aunt had left them, on finding her friend did not retire to rest, Anna asked if she should read to her, "or would you like a little music, mamma?" said she, having heard that was sometimes efficacious in expelling melancholy.
"Which do you think," said Mrs. Meridith, "is most likely to soothe grief like mine?"
"Reading, mamma, from what I have heard you say," replied Anna; "I am sorry I mentioned music."
"And what book can offer me consolation?" said Mrs. Meridith, with a dejected air.
"I know but of one, mamma, and that is the Scriptures," replied Anna. "Shall I read in them?"
"Do, my child," replied Mrs. Meridith; "and there let me learn that the best of men are not exempt from affliction; why then should I repine at it. But I am an ungrateful creature."
The next morning Anna rejoiced to see the countenance of her kind friend restored to its usual tranquillity; and after breakfast they walked to the farm, as Mrs. Meridith was anxious to see Mr. and Mrs. Campbell after her late recital. When they arrived neither of them were at home, and they were told that one of the labourers' wives had been taken ill in the night, and Mrs. Campbell was gone to visit her.
Thither also Mrs. Meridith and Anna bent their steps, and met her just come from the house, her eyes full of tears. "What is the matter, my dear aunt," asked Anna, "is dame Lewry very ill?"
"She is just dead," returned Mrs. Campbell, "and has left a distressed family indeed: her husband has such bad health, that for more than half the year he can do no work."